The Mind of Night

(This poem is dedicated to the woman who came up to me last night and asked this incomplete stranger to blow in her eye.)

The ripe hope on the cheeks of each

as they enter the bar

drunk with optimism that this could be it

destiny could be sitting at the bar

sipping time and tonic

leaving traces of her lipstick on an abandoned wine glass

a crumpled napkin

a five dollar tip

the last remains of her last conversation.

The bartender pockets her tip as she brushes past you

out into the mind of the night

where you’re a passing fancy

an idea that never reaches the tip of her tongue or pen

gone as soon as she slams the cab door.


4 thoughts on “The Mind of Night

  1. granbee

    Mr. Peter, you REALLY need to try some other places to meet women, such as Walmart. (yk!) You made me laugh with this poem, which has a sort of rollicky rhythm belying the implication of disappointment on the part of the one brushed past. Thanks for the chuckles and the ongoing insights in us gals!

  2. reader

    …my imagination makes my night full of dreams … 🙂 I´m going to look for another such man who is susceptible
    I really like this short poem, you have my tribute


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