Wild Ways

Of course, there was a time you didn’t always get your way. Back there when my heart was not so easy to invade.”

Tori Amos

“Hey Gorgeous,

can I get your number?”

We’d been raising armies of wit

all evening,

shots of something citrus fired,

unruly curls deployed as a decoy.

“Got a pen?”

I uncapped it with barred teeth

and scribbled beneath

Paynes: better off here

than across the street,

the dive bar napkin reads

with cheeky courthouse avoidance instinct.

#1 was all I wrote, the next battle

cry in my throat.

Anchors away;

retreat isn’t always defeat.

The dancefloor’s where young girls

find their fleet.

Saw you years later,

cocktail lounge subdued.

Goatee, that was new.

You said, “Hey, I think I know you.

The chick who gave me the #1.”

“Like the middle finger.”

I laughed lifting mine,

a loaded gun. “Glad it stung.”

We give our cigarettes a flick,

toast to things that stick,

the calvary of age and

the tactics of our wild ways.

© khartless 2022, All Rights Reserved

Written for Flashback Friday #52 Wild Thing.

Photograph of Paynes Biker Bar


  1. This is like flash fiction poetry (is that a thing?). Great narrative and atmosphere. Love the sassy dialogue : ‘a loaded gun. “Glad it stung.”

    Liked by 1 person

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