The Lady at the End of the Bar



She isn't wearing an above the knee green suit,
the woman seated at the end of the bar
turned slightly to see Monterey Bay out the far window.
But for some reason he sees her that way.
She's wearing beige walking shorts
and a milk chocolate top with the word Maui embossed across her chest. 
She isn't really wearing matching heels either, though he sees them on her. 
But her hair really is blond and curly and she is very well endowed. 
She has worn that gold collar around her neck the entire weekend. 
She's sweet, beautiful, serene and she's with a man sipping Absolut. 
She doesn't appear to mind that he is in love with her. 
Their conversation is of spiritual matters, philosophies, and family. 
Now and then they laugh together as if they had been intimate
and could be so again.
Her voice is as clear and pure as the ringing of a fine crystal wine glass
moistened at the lip and spun on the fingertip. 
She isn't wearing green, nor a suit, nor heels but that's how he sees her, 
this man sitting beside her sipping Absolut; 
its how he will remember her that afternoon 
as she sat at the end of the bar in Monterey looking out the window over the Bay. 


Copyright © Ron Haun


 
 

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