unraveledalibis

Awake with a memory
Sunday in the park
walking hand-in-hand
'till it is nearly dark,
'cross the west-bound avenue
two blocks to your place
wine from Argentina
cut-flowers in a vase,

With my old Swiss Army Knife
I pull the stubborn cork
the right amount of pressure
The right amount of torque,
It pops with satisfaction
two glasses from the sink
I pour them both half-full
we kiss and we drink,

Until the wine is finished
until our lips surrender
to the afternoon's pleasure
to the evening splendor,
I won't tell what we did
won't disclose where we traveled
nor confess what was discussed
or how our alibis unraveled ...