Her Hand in Mine

Had a good time at Cloer Family Vineyards Saturday. My reading went well, even got a cheer with the line “I want to die fat and happy” and I sold two books to people I did not know. That was very gratifying.

Time to head into the club, review the poems for tomorrow’s workshop and then relax.

Her Hand in Mine

An innocent gesture
In this decadent club
Sipping my wine
Chatting with her
She slips her hand into mine
Our fingers braid
This effortless warmth
Is what I treasure
Not that she’s half naked
Not that for a dollar
She’ll remove her bra

Another regular arrives
She asks permission
To go to him
Knowing I’ll grant it
As I know my refusal
Would be ignored
I’d rather she stay
But she’s on the clock
And I’m just a customer
So I send her off
To make some money

Considering my past
This lack of jealousy
Surprises me but
No promises exchanged
No vows sworn
Not abandoned
I am released
Content to wait
Scribbling notes to myself
Until she slips her hand
Back into mine

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About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker was born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough, North Carolina where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
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