After the Parade

 He uncorked the bottle and topped off her plastic cup,
Then refilled his own.
She’d leave on Wednesday, but would call him.
She had his number.
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Strands upon strands of multicolored bobbles,
Well-earned booty,
Layered into a sparkling variegated breast plate
That hides the real treasure.
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Flickering flambeaux, rhythmic drum
Mark the hour for which they come;
Snatch mid-air, the glittery beads
Flung with abandon from vessel and steed.

Side note:  The featured photo was taken hours after a Mardi Gras parade rolled through the area. The word, “Quintessential” comes to mind.

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