fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

From the Stage at Kadie’s

sin city kadies


She pours me coffee and flirts right through me with her eyes, and a smile, in my direction.  I know I’m not the only one, but a man can dream.  So I smile back, and let myself like it.  I tell myself it’s the free coffee that keeps me coming back.  But tonight I know that isn’t true.  It’s her eyes when she smiles that keep me coming back.  Anyone can give you free coffee, but free coffee, and that smile, warms a man more than coffee ever could.  When it happens, that smile with those eyes, it’s like looking at a full-color, quarter-page panel from a Frank Miller graphic for the very first time.  It’s like Nancy seeing Hartigan from the stage at Kadie’s, locking eyes with his, on the night of his impending demise.

So, just for tonight, I chose to be honest with myself and accept that the coffee, like watered-down booze at Kadie’s, isn’t the reason I keep coming back.

And I let myself like her smile and her eyes, and the way they warm the last place still alive inside me.  A place where coffee cannot go.

And I dream.


© Copyright 2014 Bill Friday

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4 thoughts on “From the Stage at Kadie’s

  1. Melody J Haislip on said:

    Bill, it’s been a while, but you still write like an angel. Love this, especially the ending.


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