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Color Prompt Lee Todd Lacks Member Write Showcase

Plum

By Lee Todd Lacks

The lights turn an impossible shade
of violet when we’re up on stage
playing for a maskless crowd in the
back room of a bar in downtown Pittsburgh
and everyone’s hip to hip so tight you’d swear it
was 2019, and the girl who sings
in the band we open for
is wearing this striking plum-colored
minidress with matching tights and
she’s playing a vintage Roland Jupiter 8
and every song hits me square in the amygdala
and to my great surprise
she seems genuinely engaged
when I get up the nerve to talk to her
in between sets, and there’s a balance
in acid and akaline, and I’m feeling
hopeful when she enters my number
into her fuchsia iPhone
“That’s where we’re staying” she declares
exuberantly when I mention the band’s
hotel accommodations
Later that night, when the hedonism in Room 471
begins to mellow out like the smoky grape Sangeovese
that some of the boys and girls are drinking, I seize my chance to creep
two floors down, to her room, that she isn’t sharing with anyone,
yet, and she’s waiting
and I’m so excited I can’t believe I’m awake
and after a few perfunctory pleasantries
and an animated discussion about our favorite
synth pop bands from the 1980’s, things get really quiet
and there’s a kiss, a long, luscious kiss
the kind of kiss a girl gives when she wants
you to stop wondering whether or not you ought to
reach around and up and under
and so, I do
and in a Pittsburgh minute
those plum-colored tights come down
and she’s humming a nameless song
and her panties are lavender (in case you were curious)
and they’re damp and sweetly fragrant
like her lips
“You mind if I turn off the light? I promise
I won’t lose you.” she says.
I can’t see Plum, anymore
but my God,
can I touch and smell and taste her.

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