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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 24, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 24, 2016



I want to be
your fantasy,
Lily said,
but her man
was too busy
with the business
to take note
of her pleas
or offer.

She knew
some guy would
somewhere out there
in that lonely world,
some guy would
let her be his fantasy.

So it came to be:
she was in some bar
in town, and a guy
at the bar near
to where she sat
leaned nearer
and said:
you all alone?
Can I buy you
a drink?

She smiled
and enlarged her eyes,
and said:
sure you can;
are you all alone too?

He nodded:
been alone since
my old lady went off
with some schmuck
in New York City
back awhile.

O that is sad,
she said,
bites at you
don't it?

Sure does,
he said,
what you
having to drink?

White wine,
she said,
that's my poison.

So he called
the barkeeper over
and order her
the white wine
and a beer for himself,
and the barkeeper
went off.

Can I be
your fantasy?
She said.

The guy frowned
and eyed her squarely:
sure can,
he said.

And what is
your fantasy?
She asked,
sitting herself
more comfortably
on the bar stool
so that her ass
was right in
the center.

The guy mused awhile,
and then whispered
in her ear.

She listened,
then giggled,
and the she laughed
and nigh fell
off the stool:
why you big ape,
she said,
you darn fool.

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