What drawer do you keep your stockings
Without secrets this life would be boring
Realize we’re all a little vain
Or we’d never get dressed in the morning
Moonshine martinis for the quiet lady
We all need an excuse to clear our minds
Offering a compassionate ear
The clues exist once you pull back the rind
Finding lipstick stains in the spilled ink
Dangerous curves under a vintage coat
Hushed tones as to not spook such a woman
The peculiarities of each soul; I take note
Taking me back
California nights long ago
Palm lined beaches
The prettiest I know
Youthful charm & bravado
Flirting down by the sea
I’m taken back these days
By the sounds of Social D
A palpable desire
Feeling it from deep within
Drowning my anxiety
Beneath 4 olives, vermouth & gin
Supposed to be a functioning adult
But I say bollocks to all that noise
It wasn’t all that long ago, still
Running the streets with the boys
Though I dress better now
The soul leaking through the cracks
My heart is a fragile commodity
Foreboding the oncoming attack
Swapping Daisy Buchanan for Lady Brett
Dreams & visions traded for a martini glass
The swirls of ice resemble their hearts
The disappearing notion of the dignified class
So we raise a toast for decent luck
These three olives constitute her daily menu
Dancing off silently out onto the veranda
Subtly becoming her own performance venue
I’m spilling my martini
Like a drunken lout
Don’t judge me, lady
Know not what I’m about
Merely seeing my words
You only know what I tell
I’ve never revealed scars
Or invited you to my hell

Captain Q 