NaPoWriMo Day 11: A smile of orange

A Smile of Orange

He has his black
Harley-Davidson
shirt on, the one
with flames
on the sleeves.

We’re sitting
in a bar,
he with a rum drink
he calls a Big Jake
and me with a glass
of wine.

We’re both dragging
after having painted
all day.
He takes the fruit
from his glass,
reaches over
and says,
“Here, have a smile
of orange.”

I chuckle to myself
as we let our arms
lean together,
the English teacher
and the biker.

When he leaves
to go to the men’s room,
I take my notebook
out and write
this poem.