This is one of the Types of Poetry - A poem about The Red Robin; a little collage bar where I spent many a weekend ....drinking
The Red Robin
by
Richard A. McCullough
WE THREE AND THE RED ROBIN MAKES FOUR OR THE RED ROBIN WALTZ
Types of Poetry
Silent digestive systems
quaking over foam and ale. Molly and Suzy too sitting in the booth with eyes cast and fingers ......thumping away the rhythm of a tune ..........humming ......................and tippling.
"Another round!"
A whiskered bar-man brings the glasses grinning my bill ..........enfolded in his hand, "Let's keep it down over here." ......winking "It's getting a little rowdy over here." and we all are laughing casting smiles at one another.
And out-side the front door traffic, humming, honking following the white line past 'The Red Robin' and over the hinged bridge to now where. Types of Poetry Our window facing onto the lake but narrower like a river with house boats crowding between signs proclaiming 'Wolf Marina' and a 'Standard' sign.
"Have some more Molly." And now it's Muscatel I'm pouring, through her protests splashing amber in the late sun bouncing droplets on the table amber still and ridged ........and now our laughing.
"I wont drink it."
"Sure you will."
"I can't get it down", ......round brown eyes rolling around at the window and me.
"Well, just sip it then." Types of Poetry "Boy are you getting ornery," Suzy's thick voice smacking it's tongue and smiling. "Maybe we ought to lock her in a closet until her humor improves .........boy...."
"For three days!"
And now we all are laughing Molly curls her lips to pout but her eyes are too giddy.
"Just you wait till I get out BOY!!!! You better not open that door!"
"We'll just open the door and push her back in!"
Yes, yes ....fill the glasses.
OH the burning spinning my head's not steady. The table nicks my knee we're leaving.
Molly and Suzy on my elbows rescuing me from the floors up-rushing. "Good night DAAAAAAAAAA------vid." He always gets a kick out of me calling him, 'DAAAAAAA----vid'. He hangs his palm in the air at me,
and the door bursts open into the night.
"Oooooh I can't see." We're all laughing our voices to fill the space between the stars.
Across the gravel in shuffled crunching.
Asleep in the back seat someone's coat tucked in a passionate embrace ........my pillow.
The engine moaning into a stutter.
A spray of gravel into the street and I'm holding on for dear, drunken, life against the sway of leaning, vanishing streets and white lights crashing to penetrate ....my head .......it's awful HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ....and smothering it ......into my pillow ....nibbling at an elbow ......fondling a sleeve.
The front door yawned open to a blackness and Molly exploded it into a whiteness. I fell onto the couch my arms outstretched, "I'm in shock." Types of Poetry "What'd he say?" Suzy in the kitchen.
Molly in the doorway witch swayed hypnotically and fell on it's side giggling.
"Oh! He fell over. Come-on now, sit up and be a good boy." her lips in my ear "There's a good fellow."
And from the kitchen with cold, light, resonance, "The coffee's ready, is he?"
"Com' on drink this alllllllll--up if you wont to be a big boy in the morning." Types of Poetry But he's not there. He's gone some where off in a far skittering dream witch reels and spins in slow precessions of bull-fights, ......that he's never been to, and dames with long silk sleeved legs and breasts as big as cows.
"Look at hem. He just lays there grinning what'll we do?"
"Pour water on his head."
"No!"
"I was just kidding. Besides he'd probably think it was a water fall on some south sea island. Maybe, we'd better, just let hem sleep it off."
"Yea."
"Look at that grin ......will you like a ten year old. Will you look at that."
"Yea." Types of Poetry And the lights went out on an ocean voyage upon a REAL pirate ship.
And the night was ended with the paired clipping ......of heals down the steps and into the midnight traffic.
