{"id":27115,"date":"2016-08-14T03:32:39","date_gmt":"2016-08-14T07:32:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=27115"},"modified":"2016-08-14T03:32:39","modified_gmt":"2016-08-14T07:32:39","slug":"19-baubles-bangles-and-deeds","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2016\/08\/19-baubles-bangles-and-deeds\/","title":{"rendered":"#19 – Baubles, Bangles, and Deeds"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/del>she came with accessories,
\n<\/span><\/span>baubles actually
\n<\/span><\/span>and a blue-striped-green swirly sash.
\n<\/span><\/span>her smile spoke,
\n<\/span><\/span>you don’t know me yet
\n<\/span><\/span>but you should.
\n<\/span><\/span>Yet, I sat
\n<\/span><\/span>silent to the corner, wondering,
\n<\/span><\/span>were those her eyes,
\n<\/span><\/span>or, contacts made to match her skirt.
\n<\/span><\/span>They roamed about,
\n<\/span><\/span>scanning anything stationary,
\n<\/span><\/span>things moving were allowed to pass by
\n<\/span><\/span>nearly unnoticed.
\n<\/span><\/span>Perhaps my stillness caught her eye,
\n<\/span><\/span>or, perhaps the smile that she discovered,
\n<\/span><\/span>sitting slightly above the rim
\n<\/span><\/span>of crystal filled with Chardonnay.
\n<\/span><\/span>The parade of suitors made her laugh,
\n<\/span><\/span>more a chuckle of pretense,
\n<\/span><\/span>mingled with partial disinterest.
\n<\/span><\/span>The moment of truth arrived.
\n<\/span><\/span>Was my mind filled with delusion,
\n<\/span><\/span>too much wine, or,
\n<\/span><\/span>some concoction of appropriate bravado.
\n<\/span>I’ll never know for sure.
\n<\/span><\/span>As she approached the table,
\n<\/span><\/span>and, the others fell aside abruptly discarded,
\n<\/span><\/span>she asked if my dance card was full.
\n<\/span><\/span>I looked at my folded napkin.
\n<\/span><\/span>I reached for the pen in my jacket pocket.
\n<\/span><\/span>No, but I was waiting to write in your name.
\n<\/span><\/span>Kelly.
\n<\/span><\/span>It’s full now.
\n<\/span><\/span>We never retrieved the scribbled paper,
\n<\/span><\/span>nor, the pen I left behind.
\n<\/span><\/span>Neither seemed important,
\n<\/span><\/span>but the music was mutually inspiring,
\n<\/span><\/span>our movements impeccable,
\n<\/span><\/span>and there was nothing else that mattered much.
\n<\/span><\/span>By the way, I was wearing a white brush linen suit,
\n<\/span><\/span>a dark brown t-shirt underneath,
\n<\/span><\/span>brown tassel loafers,
\n<\/span><\/span>and more pretension than I anticipated.
\n<\/span><\/span>Male baubles, of sorts, I suppose.
\n<\/span><\/span>The couple left, with others watching,
\n<\/span><\/span>both feeling special within themselves.
\n<\/span><\/span>We didn’t last long,
\n<\/span><\/span>but what a week
\n<\/span><\/span>We weren’t really looking
\n<\/span><\/span>but found the things we seek<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

she came with accessories, baubles actually and a blue-striped-green swirly sash. her smile spoke, you don’t know me yet but you should. Yet, I sat silent to the corner, wondering, were those her eyes, or, contacts made to match her skirt. They roamed about, scanning…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":806,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[1179,1177,1253,1372,1543],"class_list":["post-27115","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","tag-canada","tag-chowilawu","tag-gislason","tag-native","tag-nikiwan"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27115","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/806"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=27115"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27115\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27136,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27115\/revisions\/27136"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=27115"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=27115"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=27115"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}