Rendezvous

Rendezvous

A Poem by Beccy
"

Wrote this a while back. Just thought I'd dust it off.

"
   
She's sipping her coffee slowly,
perfectly painted nails tapping on the
chipped Formica. She looks out of place
,
not normally a greasy spoon cafe for her,
the menu, chips with everything,
disdainfully dismissed.

I like her hair, silk, rather than cotton,
it goes with her demeanor,
cool, like clear water flowing over stone,
unrippled, save for one little furrow line
on her otherwise perfectly smooth brow.

I'd like to ask her, 
why the diversion from Langan's Brasserie?
But that would be rude of me,
I am, after all, simply there to serve the whim;
and only on Saturdays, bridging the gap
between student loan and poverty.

At first, there is just a reflection in the window,
then I see him, far more in place than her.
Hands that work for a living, steel toecaps,
physically superior; like a lion among lambs
as he nods in her direction, then beckons. 

She takes a last, hasty sip, 
carefully smooths out the silk,
catching my eye as she stands, 
the tip, guiltily generous;
her patterns gone, leaving only
a faint hint of Clive Christian in the air, 
and it's business as usual again.   

I don't know whether to envy or pity her.  

© 2018 Beccy


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Featured Review

This is a really well written piece. It's one of those situations that occur regularly, but which are only perceived and understood by the observant. We are entranced by the appearance of this lovely woman until the speaker abruptly pulls the rug from under us with the line, " and it's business as usual again." The speaker's ambivalence in the last line is also revealing. Well done.

Posted 11 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

People watching is a great thing, the voyeur always wins, never envy anyone one, pity the poor thing, lol

Posted 2 Months Ago


A much more pleasant atmosphere than is often displayed on a seedy street corner where more than steel toes display their purchasing power

Posted 6 Months Ago


You tell a story in verse that sounds like no other (love originality) yet also very relatable & I can picture each scene you paint in words. It's too bad that people are often described & evaluated in terms of what "class" they belong to, as in your message. I hate this way of seeing people, but you've painted it in a very authentic way. Intriguing how you use a voyeuristic point of view (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 6 Months Ago


As a yank I'm not sure what "Clive Christian" is.

Beccy,
A good poem, great detail, One is caught up in the narrative. But I am curious . . . is the speaker sitting with his woman or observing from a distance. (I's guess the latter)
Tom

Posted 6 Months Ago


Beccy

6 Months Ago

Hi Tom. Clive Christian is an expensive perfume; the speaker is indeed observing from a distance, (s.. read more
kentuck14

6 Months Ago

Oh, I see . . . clever
Indeed as Kelly said, you have dusted off an amazing little gem here Beccy. The detail in this well observed still life, caught on 35mm words and ground out like a Pinter play in front of a transfixed audience is magnificent as is the window into your world.

Posted 6 Months Ago


A profoundly captivating portrayal; after reading it, I suddenly realized I hadn't actually been there.
Stunning, Beccy!



Posted 6 Months Ago


this is simply amazing, I really dont think I need say anymore than that, but I am gonna say it again... simply amazing, Best to You & Charlie (not Jack) Neville x

Posted 8 Months Ago


Thanks for sharing this piece Beccy. Takes me back to a short story I started to write - but shelved. It was a rendevous of sorts. This piece takes your reader right into the scene.

Posted 10 Months Ago


You've dusted off quite a little gem, Beccy. How many times, how many men and women have been in such a triangle? I loved the detail you've created here, right down to her perfectly painted nails tapping on the chipped formica. Then the faint hint of Clive Christian in the air. Wow! That's a lump in my throat not easily swallowed. Loved it!

Posted 10 Months Ago


She knows it's wrong, but it's her escape from a life, where the only thing that counts is what the outside looks like, rather than what's inside.

'Perfectly painted nails tapping on the chipped formica.' With just those few words you make us see it all.

Brilliantly conceived, brilliantly written and the ending is superb.

LB

Posted 10 Months Ago



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Added on September 19, 2018
Last Updated on December 2, 2018

Author

Beccy
Beccy

Northampton, Northamptonshire, United Kingdom



About
I'm forty one, single and have a lovely twelve year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I had never really been inclined to share my writing until .. more..

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