In 1981, a maitre d’
At night danced with delight
Across shoulders and heads
To break up a fight
At the riotous Red Onion,
A pagan’s palace,
With palm trees under glass.
And lots of great ass
Where slinky ladies
Strutted their stuff
To the rhythm of
Rapt testicular viral lust.
At midnight a swirling
Whirling plastic
Erection erupted
From the summit of the ceiling
Above the ballroom boards
Splashing dancing dervishes
A thousand thick
With psychotic psychedelic sperm
Masquerading as luminous light.
Rivers of bourbon and brandy;
Cordials and cognac;
Tequila and scotch
Vodka and gin;
Whiskey and rum;
Along with beer and wine
Chasers
Flooded the floor
With tipsy
Schemers and dreamers.
On a sweaty rock-and-roll night
This disco kid
Caressed lips
Witnessed
By a finicky fiancée
That did not
See right
A moment of
Exaggerated ecstasy.
Cleopatra’s fifty foot Casablanca
Paddle Wheel fan stirred the
Fetid whisky sour, over-sexed
Atmosphere above the future
Converted born-again crowd.
Thank God Christ was
waiting in the wings,
He that walked on water,
Not wine.
A connubial couple
Retired to the
Lady Chatterley Room
For dinner
After complements to
Incredible eyes
Gave rise to a geyser in disguise.
I said he was a lucky man
Causing compounded confusion
Among the cigars and cigarettes.
A diamond studded,
Pistol packing,
gold draped pimp
Driving a forest green Jaguar
Escaping the dangers of
Hollywood and Vine arrived
With manicured nails.
“My main man,” he said,
And took his oily self
Into the jam.
Alone at two
In an empty booth
That maitre d’
Sipped complementary
Gold hued Grand Marnier
In the bottom of a
Cut crystal tumbler.
Knowing that
Sunday mornings delivered
Montezuma’s Revenge
To unrepentant sinners.
All good things must
Come to an end,
And cocaine on ice
Sold quite nice
By second chance felons
Eventually
Closed the
Old Onion down
In a year when the first cases
Of AIDS were identified
Putting the ultimate price
On the counterculture’s
Free-love movement.
_____________________
Discover My Splendid Concubine by Lloyd Lofthouse at AuthordDen. (Click here) to arrive at that AuthorsDen page.
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John
I think during my extended stay in California (courtesy of the navy)
I may have been in a few Red Onions, usually seated at the back bar
or leaning on the bandstand tapping out the time of some big band. Of course, that was before the cocaine set moved in. Great, my friend.
Sounds like quite a place, the Red Onion - wow. You capture the characters, the atmosphere perfectly. Concur with Gianetta (below) - you imagery leaves me breathless - you take us in the middle of the action. Well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
This is no different. My brain is trying to keep up with yours. The imagery here is great. Your poems pack quite a wallop!