poetry by j matthew waters

the tattoo artist

it was a wild party
keg of german bock on the back deck
kitchen counter lined with an
assortment of spirits
accompanied by cut up lemons and limes
stuffed olives and orange slices
and pickle spears
juices and sodas and buckets of ice

I chose to play it cool in the parlor
hanging out by the stereo
waiting for my chance
to control the music
chatting with girls who don’t drink
and smiling at wallflowers
who rarely speak

there were many couples
invited to the bash
but as the night wore on
they seemed to become
and some who came with none
departed with many
and those who came attended
wandered unattended
waltzing through rooms
and hallways and stairways
howling like lonely felines to the blues
blaring through bose speakers

by the time midnight arrived
I had the needle all to myself
soon becoming the most popular
person in the place
taking requests and
rolling up sleeves of strangers
injecting happiness into their skin
with the finest ink known to man

march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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9 thoughts on “the tattoo artist

  1. Wow, you captured the imagery and tone to such parties, and the play on “needle” is excellent!

  2. This truly recaptures the mood of youthful gatherings. Well written.

  3. This is truly wonderful, an addictive poem.

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