expressions

The woman raised her hand and signaled the bartender. What do you want? the bartender said as she walked towards them. The question brought Frank out of his daze. My drink, I want my drink. Both the woman and the bartender looked at him. The bartender replied Sir she is next. Frank faced woman and looking her in the eye, took a deep breath and said No. I was next. The bartender turned to Frank then to the woman. Sir. he bartender said but before she could get further, the woman beside Frank put one finger in front of the bartenders face. Wait a minute, she said turning to Frank. What are you drinking? she asked him. Again, she took his momentum. He was stunned. Is she offering me a drink? He thought. Well, I am waiting. He could not remember what he wanted. He replied, Captain and coke. The woman turned to the bartender and said, Two shots of tequila along with his order and put it on my tab.
Frank chuckled Your order is a bit stiff. The woman smiled Mine, yes. I would expect more from you. He straightened up at her comment. He stuck his chest out. What do you mean? She step closer to him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and pressed her body against Frank. You look strong but your drink is weak. She smiled coyly. I like you, not your drink. Come sit with me and my friends. The woman began to walk away when Frank called to her. Your name, Whats your name? She turned around, Alexandra. She turned away and headed towards her friends.
Frank was at a lost. He looked down at his feet, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let put out baffled sigh. When he looked up, he could see Alexandra making her way through the crowd. She was half way to the other side of the club. Frank grinned, watching several men turn their heads as Alexandra walked past. She just insulted me and gave me a compliment me in the same breathe. He shook his head and started to follow. What am I doing? Frank began to think about all the nights he passed unnoticed and the few failed attempts to strike conversations with the women of the night scene. He shrugged his shoulders and thought; At least I have my drink.
With that, Frank worked his way through the crowd, anxious, even giddy as to what might happen next

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Frank's story continued

January 6th 2009 06:01

First, I apologize for the delay but the holiday slash new year deal got the best of me. Here is more of Frank's story. I hope you enjoy.

He met her at a nightclub, the type where the men wear clean-shaven smiles, dark blue dress shirts, and black slacks. The women wore their short black skirts with perfectly trimmed shoulder length hair or tight blue jeans and smelled of Chanel No. 5. Here, the bouncers wear black and look like second-string offensive linemen. Nonetheless, Frank showed up with a smile and money in hand.
Inside, soft colored lights broke the darkness. Blues, orange, and yellows poured down on the patrons. The wall was one continuous mirror. This always impressed Frank, mainly because the nightclub was circular. In fact, there was not a corner or sharp edge in the whole place. The bar to the right was hollow oval. The bartenders performed circus tricks serving the never-ending stream of clients, spinning, and dodging as went between liquor and counter. The liquor flowed more than the lines of the club. The music was blend of euro-club. The base set the tone, a constant beating that bounced off the walls and through his body.
Frank made his way towards the bar, shifting in the sea of bodies. Once he reached the called to one of the bartenders. Excuse me., he said. Excuse me. There was no response. He called again, Excuse me. This time he called out much louder than last, still no response. He let go a sigh of frustration. Determined to get service, he took in a deep breath preparing to yell. Unfortunately, someone beat him to it. HEY YOU! there was a high-pitched shout and a nudge that push Frank to the left. All followed by a woman to take Franks place at the bar. Frank looked to his right to see who had stolen his thunder and his opportunity to buy a drink.
Ohsorry about that. The comment disarmed Frank, as well as the woman looks. She was nearly his height. Sometimes you need to be forceful to get what you want around here. You know what I mean? She looked at him with half a smile. Frank looked back at the dark haired, olive complexioned woman that beat him to the punch. He did not know how to answer her. Frank was a watcher. He did everything to prepare for the game but never played. Actually, this was the first time Frank did anything more than say hello or give a nod of recognition. She continued looked at Frank for confirmation. All he could say was Yeah.

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On the Mountain Top

December 31st 2008 21:05

Mountains awaited

The mountains awaited the return of the sun
The air became cool as the sky faded from blue to orange
In the western horizon the trees took in the last rays
And the town stood quiet, lost in time
Somewhere between an era of hoop skirts and camaros

Hidden at the base of the mountains
The sun shine was far from the town
The mountains cast their protective shade over it

The mist did not sit heavy upon the town
It caressed it
The last impression of the sun
Not a heavy fog
But a river of moisture
Weaving its way through town
Flowing between buildings streets and over cars

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In the Morning

December 30th 2008 08:54

Auguste Rodin (Morning)

Birth

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Frankly Speaking

December 27th 2008 20:38

The sharp wind was an abrupt end to his sleep. How the hell he exclaimed as he nearly fell off the bench outside his condominium. Franks head was spinning and sore. He rose slowly uncurling from the fetal position that kept him from falling off the bench. His shoulders and neck were tense and strained. As he collected himself he couldnt figure out what was more painful, the ringing in his ears that made him feel like he was on the wrong side of a boxing match or the lump on the back of his head that seemed to confirm his feeling. As the haze cleared from his eyes, he remembered, the party
Damn it., he said immediately reaching for his wallet. It was still there in his back pocket. That was the problem; Frank normally kept his wallet in his inside pocket of his blazer. Come on, come on he mumbled as he looked around the bench for his jacket. He stood to his feet and staggered forward a few paces to the street. Perhaps it was near the curb or the other side. It was nowhere in sight. Frank stumbled back to the bench and sat down. Think he said to himself. Frank really liked that jacket. It was a deep purple velvet crush. It looked black at night and at the right angle, it could be mistaken for a dark red

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