Not Sure What to Call This One

Roy-Roy's Café snickered at me
Familiar Americana
Lost in upwardly mobile sprawl
Like crusty plates in the sink
Like home and comfort
Cock-eyed , cheeky waitresses
And fart-clouded restrooms
A week away from being cleaned plus or minus
I picked up the sledgewater coffee
And drained the cup
And got more from
The pock-marked arm of the
Sassy waitress
Eleanor didn't hug
She shook my hand
We sat down to talk about sex
Like it was a business
She was having a wildly promiscuous life in her forties
And I was having a DESIRE for one
And she thought I sounded interesting in the profile
And now here she was over the coffee table
Staring at me
Disappointed
It wasn't what she expected.
Sinewy runners build
Floating
Beneath a pretentious
Macy's Grey Bomber Jacket
Herringbone
Chestnut
Quilted brown cap
With introverted shifty eyes
And a quiet, droning voice
Cerebrally describing his life
Sometimes pausing to avoid
Verbal entanglement
My image wasn't cutting it
I knew it
And her Mona Lisa smile lording over
Calm, confident control over
All of life's juggling act
Well-paid job in natural medicine
Daughter
And meetups for sex
All controlled
Nothing in free-fall mode
Free of any neurosis
Addiction
Or shred of unhealthiness
It wasn't jibing with my usual
Partners
It was strange
Before she looked at the disappointing package
She had read my spin on words and phrases
And assumed my place in
The panheon
Of sex deity
And thus had demanded paperwork from the get-go!
A complete
Within-last-three-months
STD documentation:
HIV
Chlamidia
Gonnorhrea
Herpes
Scabes
And
Trichomoniasis
Written up and signed
By a local physician,
With a confirmable Washington State license
In the city of Olympia
Notarized
And raise-seal stamped.
Over the wide Roy-Roy's Café
We intellectualized
And opined
On this and that
But our cadences didn't lock
My choice of words strange
My sex appeal as absent to her
As any trace of caffeine
In the watered -down dishsoap coffee
That the three-pack-a-day husky-voiced
Waitress
Kept vapidly refilling
And her Mona Lisa control
Of life's marionette strings
Wasn't doing it for me either
I'm normal too
Teacher's job and all
But been trying to escape that
For decades.
We all have to have a touch
Of madness
To avoid totally breaking down
Later she bought my coffee
I got the tip
Pecked my cheek with her lips
Her eyes
Piercing whatever libido I had when I came in
"I didn't know you were going to Tucson tomorrow! "
(I really had explained it all in writing and wondered how her omniscience missed that )
"That doesn't leave much TIME does it?
I'm free Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday next week
When you get BACK, call me.
And if you CAN, hunt down the paperwork on your blood tests
I WANT those
For that will define what we will DO."
Later she texted back
"You know , I think we're lacking in the chemistry department, but good luck!"
Swishing her pencil over her calendar,
And scheduling in her Wednesday fuck that made the cut
Well, who can blame people for living free
And taking what they want
I put my tongue out in Tucson
And licked the desert gust
And let the wind dry the perspiration
Of a 17 miler on the dry river bed of Rillito
And came back to the hotel
To finish off with
Jaimeson and bud and Coke
I need messes
And idiosyncratic quirkiness
Like a sax player needs those off-notes
Not
Eleanors