beth was a plain jane, at least I thought so
first time I met her.     she was in her skirt-
suit lunching at a diner downtown, her
hair pulled back in a tight librarian bun.
but serendipity had me meeting
her again next weekend at lola’s off
capitol avenue, that little joint
in the alley, where local musicians
riff off each other like it’s still nineteen-
twenty-something and their hole-in-the-wall
a speakeasy     —     and there was beth dancing
like some gorgeous flapper girl, dressed for it
but with her hair down and flying wild as she
spun and twirled and tripped me into love . . .

David M Pitchford


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s