Closing Time

for Hurricane Sandy

The saucy lady with the French twist
Picked up her glass and downed
One last shot with a sharp
Toss of her head and
A flash of  her eyes beneath
Smudged lids and teasing brow
Then sashayed toward the coast
Swinging her wide hips  

The hazy sun wiped the glistening counter
With a heavy gray rag
And shared a knowing smile
With his steady customers
All the while stealing a nervous peek
At the green-faced clock’s
Overlapping hands

Push-broomed debris and sloppy foam
Whispered their heavy intentions
Toward the door with hope
Of clearing the hall by closing time.
But the dancing tide continued its tipple.
Sighing, Lady Liberty
Flicked her evening lights
Announcing last call.