tuesday night at emile’s

Poem #3 from tuesday night at emile’s

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---

on a tuesday
it is emile’s
where the choices
might be as long
as five courses of menu
but emile already knows

the regular table is free
a sign
he hopes
of status accorded
and no mere coincidence
of day to day
restaurant trade

a window seat at a table for two
set for one
is a chance to glance out
at the slowing movement on the street
he likes to watch
the world winding down in the evening

after a handful of banter
behind a flutter of napkin
and the chuckled low pleasure
of wine being poured
emile is gone

and glasses for reading emerge
from a pocket
the latest new scientist
is displayed

with its interesting article on a test
someone conducted
in mexico
to demonstrate that …
…
in a proof that will stand
for once and for all

he nods and  approves

~

she approaches
oblique
from the side
says
would he mind
the tables are so full
and she just needs to …
…
she is seated

he hasn’t quite noticed
hasn’t quite spoken
his eyes move from her
to the scientist
to a quick check
of tables vacant
at the rear of the room
then back at her

she swings a sheer-coated leg
that entered his periphery
at an angle to the table
from beneath the sharp pleat
of a dance-skirt
adorned by a red shoe
that is largely heel
and taper

the movement is back and forth
mesmerising
as she talks

some part explanation
some part an appeal
some part referring to the article
he had been reading in the scientist
and some part lost
when she leans forward
in a low cut voice
that insinuates itself
into the air
all around him

~

emile is all tut-tut
with a plate on his arm
waved away
this is no time for eating
then summoned back
she must have food
yes of course
bring another serve
keep the first one hot
his head has begun

he throbs
a little breathless
cannot utter more than a half-word
she speaks in a manner
that amazes
as a headlight might speak
to a rabbit on the road

the meal is consumed

~

he walks home
almost a stagger
his glasses
have remained
at emile’s

all he can think of
is the sound of gunfire
that annoyed him
in a movie last night
until he turned the television off

and the image of a shoe
to and fro
in vivid red

next tuesday
perhaps
he will speak to emile
for the evening was ruined
his solitude broken
she had no right
emile should have prevented
and what was her name
has she been there before

she needs to learn
something of decorum
and perhaps
if he sees her again
at emile’s on a tuesday
he might take the time
to inform her

---

© Frank Prem 2003

Tuesday Night at Emile’s Poem #4: sing and be gone

03/01/18