Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Hot Day, Ice Water

It was a summer day,
that’s why she did
what she did; because
the heat was too much, and
the air was too thick.
She ordered ice water,
no ice, only water,
from the poolside waiter
dressed in button-up shirt
and thick black trousers.
Sweat pooled on his brow
in the midday sun
while she spritzed herself cool
and jumped in
to swim a few laps
in the turquoise pool.
The glass he brought back
was crystal clear clean,
ice water, no ice, liquid
filled to the brim.
Her lips touched the rim,
sipped the cool liquid, nice,
but her tongue tasted metal,
tap water, she knew
and detested the taste.
Spat it out at once,
at the waiter’s sweaty face,
his surprised sweaty face,
now covered with distaste.
Humbly he apologized,
asked her forgiveness, she
smirked and admitted,
free drinks would be nice.

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