He'd been restrained
until she moved to go,
careful enough not to
question her desires
for anything more than
sea salt-crusted bread
and a tiny plate to hold
the infused oils she liked
to dip a finger into and raise
to her lips like a signal flag
to the waiter that the check
is due. After a single cup,
the French press cooled,
the seats next to their table
emptied. Only reflections
in the shimmering glass
mirrors behind her reminded
him that some things, even
his last-with-her-eyes-closed
kiss, just can't wait.
© 2013 Maureen E. Doallas
_________________________
This poem responds to today's photo prompt at Magpie Tales. Go here to see the image of Joseph Lorusso's original painting Just Can't Wait, to read other writers' contributions, or to drop a link to your own poem or piece of flash fiction.
9 comments:
Sharp and inventive; quite enjoyable.
Oooo! Rushing to leave...send me the check
Hugs
SueAnn
I love this .. the sense of urgency is palpable.
I have to admit it's been a while since I just couldn't wait.
But I do remember the days...
Well done.
=)
Looks like he got over "restrained
I always enjoy seeing the photo after reading your words.
Quite provocative shimmering images , thanks
Mmm... as tangy as the oil-dipped bread...
Okay...I have to make some French-pressed right now...
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