September
And the beach is still warm
But no longer crowded.
After a day in the sun
We dress – shirt and slacks for me
A long, silk dress for her
And walk to the harbor for dinner.
Summer’s long lines are gone
We step through an open doorway,
Tell the waiter “two, please”
And sit down alone
Amid racks of wine bottles
And empty tables
Set with white cloths and flowers.
A piano player improvises
Tunes from Bacharach and David
And old movie themes
A waitress hurries by
To answer the question
Of another couple at the door
“Oh, yes,” she says.
If she is faking excitement
She is faking it very well
“The Headliners are playing tonight”
As if this name is something
That everyone ought to know.
We dine on salmon and shrimp.
Out the door
A crowd has now gathered
All retirees and empty-nesters
And the band
The Headliners, I guess,
Opens with an unhurried version
Of “Daddy’s Home.”
It’s beach music
As Carolinian as pork barbeque
Filled with sweet harmonies
And buoyant as the breeze above the open ocean
Couples – he’s bald and she’s overweight
Move lightly, without mistake
Twirling and juking
To what they know and love
Underneath the violet, sunset sky.
It looks so comfortable
And suggests that this is the way it was all intended
Who could have wanted it to be any other way?
As we leave, the band asks the musical question
Does anybody really know what time it is?
Does anybody really care?
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