Sangre fria

Cardinal colors that bend
through a prism of dew,
post-diluvium, that omen
of joy and hidden treasure
and cute little people and
a gay ambience,
as flags and bunting and
streamers and balloons
reflect off crystal ball
spin a dizzy array of
brilliant polka-dots
as patrons stand and
converse and hold each other
and dance and yell and
greet each other in this
communal place of
convivial peace
of mind and spirit
as physical gyrations
beg for a cold beer
or a Cosmo or a
frozen Margherita.

The joys of a gay bar
on an early Sunday morning,
the crowd that awakens at
mid-night to “partee”,
live and love this life-style
of sexual bends and blends
and brands, of those who
share a gentle love of same
and seek this love, in this place.

Cardinal colors awash in crimson,
as this boisterous serenity
is shattered by chaotic sounds
of a weapon fired by hatred and
cold blood.

© TPuma/MMXVI