Velvet Barstool

Small, darkened room
Paneled in colored papers
Rimmed by low cushions
In the center
Like a nestled pearl
Was the bar
Shaped like hands
Cupped together

I slid onto
A velvet barstool
Rich, plush, deep
The fabric latched onto
My silk skirt and
Pushed it aside as I sat

Bartender offered only a hint of a smile
Her hair was unnaturally platinum and
Pulled tightly away from her face
She placed the menu before me and
Slyly twinkled as I stifled a gasp
At the outrageous prices

However, I came to this bar
To drink, so I ordered
Some exotically named concoction
With gin and herbal liquors and lime
And as the bartender withdrew to
Mix my cocktail
A man sat on the open stool next to me and
Asked if I minded if he smoked

I said, no, because this was a smoking bar
In a city and in a time when
People did not complain about such things
Being bothersome, and he smiled, and
Offered me one of his cigarettes.
This being that sort of bar, I took one,
Placed it gently between my lips, and
Leaned in to accept his flame

Drawing in a bit of breath, I tasted
The tobacco, an expensive local brand,
And somehow it felt right, and after the
Initial head rush I felt relaxed
Just then my cocktail was placed before me
By the silent, smirking bartender,
A drink cradled in a tall, slender, exotically curving glass,
Liquid blue and shimmering in the light above,
Light diffused by the swirling smoke from
Our shared cigarettes

I struggled to adjust my bottom
Against the thick, rich velvet of the barstool
And leaned awkwardly toward the lacquer bar
To take a sip of my cocktail
Without spilling it
Like any clumsy bumpkin would do.
It was icy, crisp, but echoing with sweet fruit
And gave off a slightly floral perfume that
Tangled with the scent of the tobacco


Around the room, on the low cushions,
Sat men and women, mostly talking in hushed tones,
Sipping their drinks with
No looks of pleasure on their faces, just
Expressionless, leaning close to each other
To speak so that no one might overhear them, and
Not making eye contact with strangers.
They were almost to a one dressed in black,
Trenches, trousers, slim flat shoes,
Pale faces, mussed hair, a bit bedraggled
From the cold, driving rain outside
Cheeks starting to thaw and flush
From the warmth of the bar and the
Fire in their glasses

I sat there silently as well, slowly drinking in
The scene, the
Gradually inhaling all but a smoldering nub
Of the strong English cigarette
Offered by a stranger who smiled,
And taking at least one hour to consume
The most expensive cocktail I have
Ever encountered in my life
I would say that I enjoyed it all very much
Despite the solitary nature of the experience
And the steep cost
But it wasn't exactly enjoyable
Only deeply imprinted on my mind
A silent pause, a respite on a
Cold and rainy afternoon,
Trapped for an hour on a velvet barstool
Smoking cigarettes with a stranger
And passing the time