They told me walk. Just pretend
not to hear, Juice Joint Jake
playing aces, slamming rummies
pinching smarties dancing through.
In this parlour, this petting zoo of
prohibitions, I could get lost, or move in
Creole belles, moonshine and mambo
swaying pearls and the wiggle patrol…
But nothing phases Absinthe Tina. Not
a full house of feathers, lust and money, not
parlour games or unmarked bills, not
another bullet proof vest- just hummingbird
express, out one backdoor and east into another.
“Ish kabibble” was all he said. The place fell silent.
You fell to the floor. Staccatoed cacophony, a shower of glass.
My sidecar sweat its memories in dewdrops.
Darn that dream.
Prompt: a list of phrases and words in the running for a new band name. The pick? Absinthe Tina. 😉