SLICK AND SLICKER

I overheard passions as they sat in the booth

Dinner was served but not eaten by Ruth

A toast of fine wine, an exemplary Dish

He twisted uneasy and looked very “suspich.”

He glanced at his watch and looked over his shoulder

Effused out a smile, dark danger and bolder

A fawn sequined clutch bag lay there on the table

It had a strange bulge, she gathered her sable.

She politely  excused for the powder room

She had to work fast, she must not assume

Out to the phone booth to call her news’ boss

To share her hot tip before it was lost.

She returned to the table and smoothed back her hair

Her lips were quite moistened, now her shoulders were bare.

She sat with a surety and looked at her food,

She spoke with a calmness, “This looks quite good.”

Now, “Tall and Handsome” sweated in place

He took out white linen and dabbed at his face.

He got up from the table and looked all around,

‘Scused himself quick, said he didn’t wanna’ be found.

She brushed off “confusion” looking very demure

Placed her clutch bag on her lap to be sure

Tasted cold fish no longer steaming on plate

Saw others looking, no longer sure of her fate.

She’d set up the “squeeze,” but where had he gone?

She’d done everything right but all could go wrong

Meanwhile our Slick Guy was out in the Booth

Calling his boss to lay out the truth.

He said, “Yuh gotta’ act now, yuh gotta’ act fast

This hot scoop!  It ain’t gonna’ last!

The Unurban speakeasy’s got nothin’ but stars

For like music and munchin’ yu’d have to go far.”

“Now look!” yelled his boss.  “Nice try for the tip

Some dame called her paper and they’ve just published it

You’re out on the beat, you’re supposed to deliver

Get on the run now, or you’re dead in the river.”

Really pissed off  he slammed down the phone

Tore the door open, enough to wake up the town

Brushed passed the man who he’d tipped for the table

Toward the Slick Dish on her feet with her sable.

They looked and pretended that all was just fine

Returning to table they sipped a lot of the  wine.

Now confusion is chaos that wants to escape

And words are excuses to cover a rape.

…to be continued!

By Flo Lawrence