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A Summer Dinner Party

With less than temperate attendees.

By AbigailPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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Photo Credit: Kaboompics (Pexels)

Could you, my love, get me some more rosé?

And cold water too - yes, that would be great.

I’m wilting here past the heat of the day.

It’s dinner, how long will they make us wait?

Going straight to my head, all of these wines!

Let’s get drive-thru when this comes to an end.

I’m tallying up all these party crimes;

You whisk me back home before I offend.

I stare at the fan whirring overhead,

Tell you with great feeling: Next time, we’ll host.

Then throw out my arms and call you to bed,

To hold me the way that I like the most.

The press of your arm, over my body

Is a reassuring touch, and heavy.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Abigail

Art obsessed oenophile who travels for food.

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