Blue Moon Lounge by Chuka Susan Chesney

In the evening we highway to the Blue Moon Lounge,
I nudge the lava coals of your high water thighs.

We’ll sidecar for an hour, on cushioned stools of foam,
twizzling the blues beneath aquarium.

Our napkins navigate a counter of remiss. Hunched to the side
you finger tease your ‘do, next to the spillway of the ladies’ room.

Your mother was right, you shapeshift at night.
She named you Damselfish when your glance swayed to the right.

That rusted Mustang you used to steering wheel,
the jawline of our neighbor bathed by Paco Rabanne.
Your eyes capsized into fissure vents.
Grand Marnier transports me to that lei of jasmine
on Pineapple Hill where I angelfished your heart.
Time for Curaçao to accelerate my chest. I can’t hula
with my lover while I empty glass adrift.

Our former rendezvous, diluted by ice –
we stingrayed through kelp of what happened to our marriage.
Now we kayak our future on a shard of cocktail glass,
the ginger of fresh syrup will hopefully last.

A platter of hot wings
for invigorating veins.
This wrinkle of romance
is lipstick-stained.
I crunch a maraschino to alleviate pain.
My conversation highballs as you seashell grin,
in figure eight motion, we Uber to our room.
Hoist your negligee, paddleboard my grief, passion
swelled by paradise on a lemon wedge king.

Chuka Susan Chesney is an artist and a poet. Her poems, art, and/or flash fiction have been published in Peacock Journal, Inklette, New England Review, Compose, Picaroon, and Lummox. Chesney’s paintings and collages have been in exhibitions and galleries across the United States.

               Art by Chuka Susan Chesney

                         Author's picture taken by

                         Lawrence D. Rodgers