Lacy MacAuley

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a home for my pen, projects, and passions

Adams Morgan Romance

A (highly fictitious!) poem by Lacy MacAuley

Leaving Affinity Lab on a Saturday night
I hurried down the stairs
I stepped out on 18th Street baby
And I breathed in the Adams Morgan air

There you were locking up your bike
Right by the Diner line
Didn’t you work at City Bikes?
Did you repair my spoke that time?

I decided I would get you drunk
And see what happened then
There was something about that fixed-gear frame
That was a-making my tires spin

I struck up a little conversation
About the neighborhood
A twinkle in your eyes said
A drink at Bossa could be good.

Don’t know how many shots we did
How did we get that bent?
We giggled over iPhone apps
Our bank accounts got spent

I showed you my little blog
You showed me your secret tattoo
We caught a scoop at CaliYogurt
And lamented the demise of Maggie Moo’s

Cavorting kind of wildly now
We thrashed into Madams Organ
Your red hair and my Irish blood
Will set cheap drinks a-pouring

The suburban throngs didn’t faze us
As we gave into a vice
I’m reluctant to admit it even today
But we stumbled over to get some Big Slice

I suppose that we were a little loud
When I brought you on up Belmont
And I have to admit that when I brought you inside
I couldn’t wait to get your clothes off

Through the open window Madonna was singing Vogue
Pumping out from Club Heaven and Hell
And we were halfway there in purgatory
When the neighbors knocked and they broke our spell

And then the very next day we were feeling rough
So we dragged ourselves to Asylum
We giggled over some vegan eggs
The veggie bacon was a-stylin

Ill-advisedly we headed over
To Mi Tierra Market
Last night’s whiskey was hitting us hard
And then we ran into your ex-girlfriend

Waving white flags we evacuated
With our pupusas and their sauce
And I was just pinching your nipple
As we ran into my boss

With a Cheshire grin I said a quick hello
And escaped on down the street
We ducked into Idle Time Books
Had ourselves a read

…We lounged on throughout our day
Wound up at Malcolm X Park
The drums were beating strong my dear
But not in my heart

I discovered that you go to Starbucks
I’m a Tryst devotee
You don’t like the smell at Amsterdam Falafel
I’m Mac – You’re PC.

Sorry sweetheart, but this Adams Morgan romance
just won’t work
I know I’ll see you everywhere
so please don’t be a jerk.

I’ll take down your Twitter name
Let’s be Facebook friends
We’ll always have 18th Street honey.
This love is at its end.

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Filed under: biking, humor, lacy's life, poems

2 Responses

  1. Thanks for something lite: a change from all the summer drama and heat, stay well, Cures

  2. sheribomb says:

    Super cute poem, Lacy! What a fun little name-dropping adventure! 😀

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