Occasionally poems will almost write themselves
If circumstances and details are readily available
My memories from an evening in Santa Monica
Fell into my lap as a lasting memory of events
A quiet evening in the lobby bar with friends
Enjoying a wonderful glass of Californian merlot
After a while, the lobby area became quite busy
People vying for a seat or phone charging points
A man bumped into my chair and excused himself
He heard my accent and immediately stood by me
Introduced himself as Sean Casey from Los Angeles
Of course he was full of chat about the film industry
Introduced us all to his group of actor companions
He was supposedly filming nearby in the local area
Within an hour Sean had almost sold us his story
It involved blood sweat tears and love at its core
Plausible to a few who were hanging on every word
Sean simply asked for extra drinks to conclude his tale
I sensed it was an unexpected serving of baloney
The hotel manager recognised the chatty troupe
Within minutes they were unplugging their phones
Gathering backpacks and quickly exiting the door
They were well known for their calculated trickery
Just sixteen miles between Santa Monica and fame
Leaving the hotel to go to a restaurant for dinner
I shared the revolving door with singer Rod Stewart
We hesitated to try to gauge if it really was him
Nothing seemed as it might be in that location
Men in black were inconspicuous back at the bar
President Obama was attending an event tomorrow…
If circumstances and details are readily available
My memories from an evening in Santa Monica
Fell into my lap as a lasting memory of events
A quiet evening in the lobby bar with friends
Enjoying a wonderful glass of Californian merlot
After a while, the lobby area became quite busy
People vying for a seat or phone charging points
A man bumped into my chair and excused himself
He heard my accent and immediately stood by me
Introduced himself as Sean Casey from Los Angeles
Of course he was full of chat about the film industry
Introduced us all to his group of actor companions
He was supposedly filming nearby in the local area
Within an hour Sean had almost sold us his story
It involved blood sweat tears and love at its core
Plausible to a few who were hanging on every word
Sean simply asked for extra drinks to conclude his tale
I sensed it was an unexpected serving of baloney
The hotel manager recognised the chatty troupe
Within minutes they were unplugging their phones
Gathering backpacks and quickly exiting the door
They were well known for their calculated trickery
Just sixteen miles between Santa Monica and fame
Leaving the hotel to go to a restaurant for dinner
I shared the revolving door with singer Rod Stewart
We hesitated to try to gauge if it really was him
Nothing seemed as it might be in that location
Men in black were inconspicuous back at the bar
President Obama was attending an event tomorrow…
Eileen T O’Neill 21/03/2024
You had me smiling by the end, as you captured not only the charlatan but also the feel of the evening. You give a sense of life going on and on (The appearance of Rod Stewart and the ending Obama line). Very enjoyable.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful tale, Eileen. Truly enjoyable to read. I especially liked "I sensed it was an unexpected serving of baloney" and laughed to myself at how you had so cleverly detected his deception! But truly I would not doubt that you did see Rod Stewart. Anything is possible there!
ReplyDeleteWow! What a vibrant and exquisitely executed tale - I felt as thought I was there with you through each line.
ReplyDeleteHa, I could see the whole scene as I read, and loved the exit next to Rod Stewart, and the reference to Obama. (I miss him!) A wonderful story, Eileen.
ReplyDeleteQuite an evening...so much for the men in black trying to be inconspicuous... you spotted them all!!! :)
ReplyDeleteGreat poem and what an eventful evening. very enjoyable work.
ReplyDeleteAn anything might happen evening. And it did happen. Love the whole atmosphere where characters and charlatans show up. How wonderful that you've captured all in the poem.
ReplyDelete