Close Call In A Blues Bar

uptown New York girl
stoic exterior
over velvet emotions,
education and wisdom
rare combination

old southern salt
weathered tan
pickled interior,
rough on the edges
sand spur demeanor

here for the music
each puzzled by the other,
ease dropping and editing
over micro brews and zinfandels

she writes all forms
her poetry on pages,
he is beach ditties
rhymed to remember

next week they'll write
about one another,
views so different
they won't have a clue

but the Wicked will see
and never reveal,
for velvet and sand spurs
aren't really velcro,
their constant irritation
is best left apart