He Wore Base On His Face

 
 
 
It made sense  
he needed a way to start a baseless  
conversation  
I had been sitting at the table  
closest to the kitchen door    
alone  
nose and pen  
tangled in my little black book  
all evening  
   
The waitress put the sixth pint  
down in front of me  
as she hurried through  
clanging cuttlery    
between door swings    
"Hola  
woza  
eish wena"  
vanacular jargon  
echoing through the    
sounds of  
grill fires, plates beating stainless steel  
with that froth sound  
beer taps burp out  
   
The boy had style about him  
an uncanny resemblence  
to artist mongrels    
with engineered parents  
I guessed architect  
The baseless conversation  
had me questioning  
his social abilities    
at the get go  
   
"If he asks about family  
and relationships, I'll punch him"  
raced through my head  
like the front rider in the first corner  
on a offroad    
mudbath with the front wheel
in the air  
   
"Are you alone?"  
"May I sit here?"  
[See, baseless conversation]  
   
Saw him eye my cigarette packet  
Thought about it    
pinned him as lonely  
   
"No, not alone"  
"Have a seat  
want a smoke?"  
Smiled at the waitress  
who knew  
I was adding a drink to my tab  
   
My eyes and pen  
had to quit    
Once he started talking  
it never stopped  
can't remember what he said  
I was thinking  
in wonder  
   
Silently talking to myself  
   
"Do you think  
alpha woman find the idea    
of two erotic men    
as sexy  
   
As  
we men find  
the idea  
of two erotic women"  
   
   
-x-