Monday, April 27, 2009

Polo Brunch with The Beatles

My fingers reach to her lips
and gently place a strawberry
into her anxiously awaiting
mouth. She grasps the berry
between the tips of her teeth.
I hear a giggle ripple out
from her throat as she closes
her lips over the strawberry
and grins broadly, a fire in her
eyes, juice dripping down
across her chin. I lean forward
and slurp the red stain away.

Out from the ice cooler, she
pulls a bottle of champagne
and two chilled flutes. I rip
soft slabs of fresh sourdough
from a round loaf and cut
cheddar wedges as she pours
bubbly into the glasses, leaving
room for a single strawberry
to adorn the flutes along with
a freshly snipped mint sprig.

In the warm, Pacific Palisades,
spring morning, Rita Wild spins
vinyl, remixed, Beatles' platters
upon which we serve our
brunch with The Beatles.
We snuggle close together
on the picnic blanket spread
across the lawn on a knoll
overlooking the Will Rogers
Polo Club engaging in spirited
chukkers on the turf below.

The salty air from the nearby
beach barely finds room to drift
between our goose bumps and
mesmeric gazes while our soft voices
cowl thickly around our mingling
auras. Electricity flies between
our fingertips as The Beatles
urge us to spend our innocence -
encouraging the trampling
energy the strong polo steeds
liberate across the grassy
polo field - raising our passion.

No comments: