{"id":98908,"date":"2021-06-26T23:23:07","date_gmt":"2021-06-27T03:23:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=98908"},"modified":"2021-07-19T00:07:53","modified_gmt":"2021-07-19T04:07:53","slug":"a-scene-at-the-pub","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2021\/06\/a-scene-at-the-pub\/","title":{"rendered":"A Scene at the Pub"},"content":{"rendered":"

Oh, but he was handsome!
\nCurvaceous arms sweeping forward
\nas he reached the golden lager
\non the bar next to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Our eyes met, and he,
\nperplexed by my gaze
\njostled a bit of a spill
\nto wet my breasts.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s ok. I\u2019m fine.\u201d I laughed,
\nas his ears turned all shades
\nof red, and his smile turned
\nall shades of lust.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDavid Bradley, U.S. Forest Ranger.\u201d
\nI pointed at the periwinkle pin
\nstill on his green button shirt \u2013
\nthe one hiding a sure six pack.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you are\u2026?\u201d he smiled.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEmily,\u201d I almost whispered,
\nbreathless, heart pounding
\nas if teetering near the window
\nof a Chicago skyscraper.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMmm, sourdough!\u201d he gushed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry?\u201d leaning closer,
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s sourdough
\nbut second hand yeast?\u201d
\nand thoughts of the song.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI love sourdough!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He whispered across me,
\ninto a cloud of sliced bread.
\nA generous pub keeps drunks fed
\non more than needle thin pretzels.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell are gumboots?\u201d he asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

A beat, then two or three,
\nas I wondered of his sanity,
\nand if his musculature was
\nworth another crazy dude vanity.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOver there on that storefront,\u201d he pointed at the window.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sure enough, a sign spread diagonally
\nadvertised \u201cGumboots lessons! Half off!
\nThis week only!\u201d It was a dance hall.
\n\u201cLooks interesting,\u201d I replied, wanting to faint.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Oh, but he was handsome! Curvaceous arms sweeping forward as he reached the golden lager on the bar next to me. Our eyes met, and he, perplexed by my gaze jostled a bit of a spill to wet my breasts. \u201cIt\u2019s ok. I\u2019m fine.\u201d I…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":189,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,441],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-98908","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","category-poetry-prompt-responses"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/98908","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\/189"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=98908"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/98908\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":104520,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/98908\/revisions\/104520"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=98908"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=98908"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=98908"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}