Friday Distraction

She pulls you toward her,

Like north to south.

She speaks with her eyes,

And blots her mouth.

She clears her throat

In a subtle way

As the waiter takes

The plates away.

You suggest dessert

Or just peruse the list.

Making mental note of the time,

And the several trains you’ve missed.

She beams at the choices

Of chocolates and liqueur,

Of cakes and cobblers 

And other treats that blur.

She is mesmerizing,

Alluring, a pleasant distraction.

Then she startles you 

With her sudden reaction.

“None for me.

Too rich, too sweet, too soon.”

You nod your clouded head,

Still floating like a ballon.

A peck goodnight

Across the cheek.

Your legs still tremble

As you try to speak.

She hushes you, 

Gives a wave, 

And departs across the street.

Red heat flushes through, 

But you did not cave,

And kept it all discrete.