Raymond A Foss

1960 / Westfield, MA / United States

Nice Teeth

Seven descended on the table
Away from the crowd
He sat in the middle,
Back to the wall
Surveying the scene

She approached,
Young, pert, saucy
Ready to please
Ready for banter, the bluster

He watched her come
Stride across the room
To take his order

Did she really hear it
His thoughts expressed
By her young lips
"Nice teeth?"
She asked

"No, No"
"I said Iced Tea"

Oh, but it was too late
The comrades were ready
Eager to jibe and jab
To dis' his blurt of thought
In too public view

Ordering fell apart,
Cascade upon torrent
Variations lost -
You get what I give ya -
Refuge needed

Ah, yes -
Chicken Quesadillas, dear sweet friend

Oh, yes, my dear listener
It was a signal, an assertion
His standard fare; but oh so much more
That night
When nice teeth
Became the watchword
Throughout our night.


Time off
Time away
Time to recharge
To fight another day

Fun and sun
On the run
To the park
To the beach
In the car
We'll go far

Happy still
Need to Chill
July to August
Ready to deal
With September
To December
62 Total read