Margarita…

she sat in the bar drinkin’ by herself…had Margaritas…the kind with Grand Marnier in ’em…sipped at it with a straw…

and she didn’t talk to no-one… men would approach her…tell her how pretty she looked…there was no response…not even a mischievous smile…just sat there in silence…watchin’ Wheel Of Fortune with the sound down as blues played in the background…

had these red fingernails she’d run through her pitch black hair every once in awhile…would take out a tiny mirror to check her looks…then she’d point to her glass and in a whisky cigarette voice ask for another…she’d slide tens for seven dollar drinks…

came one day I didn’t see her in there…then another and another…didn’t ask ’bout her…didn’t wanna seem as though I was pryin’…just came to the conclusion she was gone…one way or another she was gone…

wonder what happened to her…

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