Grace hit the city, ready for roses.
She’d seen all the films; knew all the poses.
Without fear of traps or any entanglement,
She came for the glitter, and maybe a gentleman.
Small towns and small people had all had their day,
Now there was nothing to stand in her way.
With a slinky black dress and open toed shoeses,
She put on a smile and practiced her ruses.
At a posh corner bar, brass and mahogany,
Lousy with lawyers, bored with monogamy,
She stationed herself at a small corner table,
Playing her part in this little fable.
Tony’s not one you’d take for a sucker.
Streetwise and charming, almost a huckster,
He knew what he wanted, and just how to get it;
There wasn’t much he’d ever regretted.
From out on the street, he glimpsed her within –
Beautiful hair, exquisite skin.
Changing his plans, he walked on inside,
And up to the bar without breaking his stride.
Louie the barman was there at the ready.
They were old friends, come up in the city.
Scotch on the rocks, Tony’s regular drink,
Slid ’cross the bar with a welcoming wink.
“Who’s that over there?” Tony asked his old friend.
Lou chuckled a bit before he began,
“Don’t have a clue; she looks mighty classy,
I hope you’re not thinking of trying that lassie.”
“No disrespect Lou, but what do you know?”
Tony replied while he pulled out his dough.
Heading for Grace after paying his bill,
Tony swooped in, like a hawk to the kill.
Swirling his ice cubes, he coolly sat down,
Playing his part like some man of renown,
While our lady Grace tried not to reveal
Whether her interest was feigned or for real.
Bright conversation was one of his charms,
But something about him set off alarms.
Tony’s not one to hide what he felt,
But Grace never showed the cards that she held.
Tony’s smooth banter assailed her gates,
But nothing impressed our cool lady Grace.
She’d seen this scene in movies at home.
Tony soon knew he was leaving alone.
But Grace knew this hustler might help her to find
The highlife and city seen in her mind.
So she coyly suggested touring the park
Next Saturday, sometime well before dark.
They met in the park, come Saturday noon,
Strolled past the boathouse and on to the zoo.
Cool as her ice cream, she asked him point blank,
“Just how much cash have you got in the bank?”
“Hold on girl,” he said, “Just what do you mean?
I’m here for fun, not the ’merican dream.”
“That’s what I thought,” she replied in a snit,
“I’ve got places to go and a big life to live.”
Taken aback, he paused to consider,
While Grace explained the thought that had hit her.
“How about if we just work together,
So in the end we each get what we’re after?”
“Tony you’re cute, but you can be a jerk.
And that’s what I need, if this thing’s to work,
‘Cause the Belmont Stakes are on for next week,
And that’s where I’ll find the people I seek.”
“High rollers and big money all will be there.
We will be too, as a quarreling pair.”
Grace laid out her plan, she had it all set,
She even promised she’d pay Tony to bet.
So Saturday came; they went to the race.
Lines were rehearsed, and things were in place.
Tony placed bets and was playing his part –
A gambler breaking his poor lover’s heart.
Just for the yuppies standing beside them,
Grace added more to this scene of mayhem.
“You’re wasting our savings,” she wailed aloud;
“What will I tell Grandma?” she cried for the crowd.
Tony then cursed and pushed her down roughly.
She fell to her knees while he turned abruptly.
Deaf to her cries, he stomped away madly.
The yuppies all gasped as she whimpered sadly.
Quick as a flash, Rex was there with a hand
Helping poor Grace to a wobbling stand.
“Forget that crude bastard,” kindly said he
While offering her his initialed hankie.
With tears in her eyes, she stifled her smiles,
Seeing the payoff from all of her wiles.
“What will I do now? I’m so all alone.
I’ve nowhere to go,” she pitifully moaned.
Later, by months, while out from the loft,
Where living with Rexxie is boring but soft,
Grace finds herself outside Lou’s corner bar
So inside she goes, to check her co-star.
Lou’s tending bar and recalls her quite well,
Says “Tony’s in Rome, he’s doing just swell.
He told me about your thing at the track,
But he’s never said just when he’ll be back.”
“He didn’t tell you; one ticket you bought,
A trifecta pick, oh boy was it hot!
He travels a lot now, with bucks in the bank.
Says in his postcards ‘It’s you he should thank.’”
The point of this ditty is whether our Grace
Picked the wrong horse when she went to the race.
Sometimes we get all the things we go after,
But then in the background, all we hear is laughter.
Jack Wallick is a retired engineer, tech writer, and microbiologist. He started writing poetry forty some years ago and today writes in a wide variety of formats – traditional rhyming and metric poetry, memoirs from his time as a draftee in Vietnam, fiction, and essay. Up to this point he is unpublished, likely the result of not being an MFA from an expensive midwestern liberal arts school.
