City By Storm Poem by T.L. Toadvine

Her grey flecked leggings
His black cowboy boots
In a Manhattan snow storm
Out for a taste of the city
Duck into a small joint
Somewhere
Down in Little Italy
Sitting by the window
Looking out
At winter's latest hissy fit
He's tellin' her all those things
No woman ever forgets
She tells him tells bout some cousine
On the Muslim side of town
As he stares into the bottom
Of her magic black eyes
Her lips moving
But he can't hear a sound
Back out the door they're movin'
To the rhythm of the storm
He just wants to get her in a taxi cab
So he can pray for a traffic jam