An innocent gesture
In this decadent club
Sipping my wine
Chatting with her
She slips her hand into mine
Our fingers braid
This effortless warmth
Is what I treasure
Not that she’s half naked
Not that for a dollar
She’ll remove her bra
Another regular arrives
She asks permission
To go to him
Knowing I’ll grant it
As I know my refusal
Would be ignored
I’d rather she stay
But she’s on the clock
And I’m just a customer
So I send her off
To make some money
Considering my past
This lack of jealousy
Surprises me but
No promises exchanged
No vows sworn
Not abandoned
I am released
Content to wait
Scribbling notes to myself
Until she slips her hand
Back into mine
This year marks the tenth anniversary of my first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular. To celebrate I’m posting my favorite poems from the book on Wednesday nights, of course.

The hands of time stop for no commands
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You can’t cuff the hands of time.
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Good one Bart
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Finally clicked through to your collection. ✨
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Thanks, Michele! (Took you long enough. ;)
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Welcome. No doubt! 😁
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Reminded me of this…
…and that’s a compliment.
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I’m honored!
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And….
http://www.spanglefish.com/berniesblog/blog.asp?blogid=16483
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Thanks, Bernie!
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Great write. A beautiful and atmospheric scene full of meaning and unanswered questions. Very nicely done. I love it.👏👏👏
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Merci beaucoup! There always are a lot of unanswered questions in a club. The smart customers know to not even ask them.
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