Taco Tuesday 

 

 

Tuesday afternoon came around. We had planned on meeting up for lunch at Rosita’s. They have the best tacos on the island. The place was beat up. It looked like it was constructed entirely of driftwood and old metal signs. I ordered the Key West Amber. The barkeep wore peach shorts and a denim shirt buttoned low over a nice, tight tank.

“I’ll have a water, no lemon please.” The sound of her voice broke the love spell.

“Sorry, I was…uh…”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good. It has been a rough start to the week, but it’s early and we’ll rebound.”

“I love that about you.”

“What’s that?”

“How you always find hope in the situation.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“No, I get it. I just don’t naturally see it.”

“Are you guys ready?” The barkeep asked.

“I’m going to have the taco plate.” Alice’s voice was overly cheery, bordering on patronizing.

“Make that two, please.” I resisted looking at the barkeep, instead keeping my eyes on the menu. I folded it, handing it to her without ever looking up. I’m sure it was awkward for everyone.

“What’s your name, dear?” Alice asked the barkeep.

“It’s Summer.”

“Oh, of course it is. ”

 

*previously published

Poseur Punks Stealing My Traditions

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Poseur punks stealing my traditions

Though they never earned the right

You cannot reappropriate a feeling

They’ve never been adrift under a starry night

These kids’ empty hearts & endless expectations

I left the sweat of my brow upon the sea

With too many of my nights away from home

In an entitled world; duty means a lot to me

I’m Not A Perfect Person

I’m not a perfect person

I admit too many flaws

These are the cars dealt

Beholden to love’s natural laws

Maybe I should remain stoic

Hold these jokers closer to the vest

My eyes twitch as I shuffle

Damaged, but I’m doing my best

You Have Your Notions Of Me

You have your notions of me
Whether it’s my rugged good looks
Or I’m a notorious scalawag
But neither a hero or a crook
I’m not a man of much persuasion
Nor am I a wild west outlaw
I choose to wear the eyepatch
But I’m more of a gentleman with flaws

I write fast & love slow
Without a care of what they say about me
When you have faith
You never have to wait & see

I quietly find my secrets within
Descended from that beautiful literary brogue
To hell with the naysayers; we’re gonna have fun
I’ll be your host tonight, the swashunbuckling rogue
Many out there won’t warm to my charm
Not their cup of tea or simply they’ve no style
But you of good taste & reknown class
Come share a spot with the one with the mischievous smile