The Poetry Place

Townscape 14

Wednesday, 10 December 2008 17:01:05

All the diners here were sober till
The Desperado beers were drunk. While on
The --- tables crimson candles shone
Illuminating a log pile on the sill,
Never to be burnt, at least not here.
Above the waitresses, hatless, unveiled,
Are black sombreros securely nailed
To walls: were never near a bandolier.

Still stuck for an adjective for tables but I came up with unveiled for the waitresses, hoping to summon connotations of mysterious Mexican ladies half hidden behind black lace. 



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