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Bathgate At Ogilvie Road, Nevada

by Chris Sorrenti


Grown weary of yet another uneventful party,
I walked into the Mac’s Milk,
and there she was, standing behind the counter.

Asked her where the ripple chips were
in an fruitless effort to dissipate the building excitement;
the alcohol still active in my system
barely keeping my heart from doing the Mango Tango.
She told me playfully sarcastic
in a dominant feminine tone to go look for myself.

Walked up to the counter with my purchase.
Couldn’t help but grin.
She made some smart-ass comment -
just the excuse I needed.
I grabbed her hand in reaction;
squeezed it gently for punishment;
her fingers, white chocolate melting between mine,
and for one brief moment,
our souls connected as never before.
Her face lit up like atomic Nevada,
and to this day still wonder why I ever let go.

Her stern composure quickly deteriorating,
she punched the wrong amount on the cash register.
I felt relieved on seeing her helplessness;
me, being just as bad.

© 1985

520 hits as of December 2019


09/28/2014

Author's Note: The actual timeline for this poem is 1977.

Posted on 09/28/2014
Copyright © 2019 Chris Sorrenti

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 09/28/14 at 03:44 PM

That is great I just don't think I've ever had that reaction with women.

Posted by Steve Michaels on 09/29/14 at 02:48 PM

"Her face lit up like atomic Nevada, " great line!

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 09/29/14 at 04:53 PM

Terrific story telling here, Chris.

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