Highlight of a Slow Day

I had never seen her
come into the bar before.
she waltzed into the dive
wearing dark flowing
gypsy garb
and bangles galore.
A tinkling heard with each
step of her gladiator sandals.
Her obviously dyed
fire-red hair
was the backdrop to her
beautifully lined face.

Any person could see
she was woman who
actually lives her life.
She wasn’t put into a box by
her age.
This was apparent as she began
to speak of her yearning to
take more dancing classes.
This time pole. Belly dancing
wasn’t enough—it was time to
expand her repertoire.

This topic of conversation was
spurred by the pole that lived
in the middle of the dance floor
of the bar. She was elated because
she had now found a place to
practice her new dance steps.

She then began to talk to me
about her baby—I assumed it
was her grown daughter that
she was referring to.
Oh no— after a little
questioning, she had meant
Empress Princess Lacey—
her cat.
She had just gone shopping
for the Empress’s new summer wardrobe.
a commando collar, just because
a pink leopard one, when she’s feeling girly
and a red, white and blue one, because it’s almost the fourth.

After downing a Bud—though she hinted
at wanting a lemon drop
she danced out of the bar
like a mystical flower
gyrating to
the tune playing
inside her head.

Thank God for her coming in
that day—
its kooks like her that
make me appreciate working in a bar
even if it was only a $40 tip day.