Lucky Star

An elegant woman in a long brown tube dress Accenting bare milky shoulders Gently clad by a silk cape Exhaling skyscraper-like confidence Leaned upon the afternoon bar Requesting Tanqueray and tonic And placing her dark sunglasses Into her expensive leather purse. I was a young man a day Past twenty-one And nearly as inexperienced And naïve as I am today Decades later; I entered the bar for no purpose Dreaming of Ernest Hemingway. She sat alone at the bar Not in need of any man Or anything much in particular; I sat conspicuously by myself With a notebook And studied her ankle-revealing shoes As if to gather major information Concerning the universe. Madonna was playing in the background And it felt like a pleasant day; After she finished her drink, The startlingly beautiful woman Walked over to my table and asked, “Are you looking at something? You seem to be staring at me.” I replied, “Only at your ankles, honest.” Before I could utter an apology, She kissed me and exited the bar. I almost left my notebook behind On that amazing day And still haven’t caught my breath.