the close call

it was years ago,

decades?

hard to believe, but true.

when she said,

after the writing class

had ended. let's have a drink.

let's celebrate

your publication.

but i'm married i told her.

i have a son now.

i pointed at the car seat

in back of the car.

just one drink,

she said. on me.

come on.

live a little. so off we went

to some secluded dive bar.

her in her tight short

dress,

her low cut blouse.

her perfume and freshly

done hair.

was she wearing heels?

i think so.

she was newly slender,

having starved herself

on the latest diet.

we drank,

she bumped her knee against

mine. she crossed

her legs, she purred.

she touched my thigh.

she praised my writing.

the color of my eyes.

but i said no. i'm sorry,

but i can't. there's a part

of me that says yes.

but the rest says no.

so we parted ways.

the next time i saw her 

she was in the school cafeteria,

hunched over a book.

she was eating a double

cheeseburger with fries

and a washing it down with

a chocolate shake.