Night on the Town

poetry

You looked so good
in your Sunday’s Best
but on a Wednesday night?
I can not fathom why.

You looked damn good,
though. Cruel to say per
haps, circumstantially
speaking. You looked
damn good, though.

I bet you can get
way down in those
wingtip shoes, though.
Boy, I bet you
can get all the way down
in those black heels.

But on a Wednesday night?
I can not begin
to try to fathom
what you’re doing out.

Leave a comment