Chutzpah

Wearing Sunday’s clothes,

a necktie of audacity,

pockets full of matches,

and yesterday’s shoes,

he jiggles the handle of a closed door

calls silence by her first name

does not wait for an answer.

With brass in his blood,

the moxie of a fake holy smile,

and a bit of swagger,

he walks into the room,

asks the Mistress of Impossibilities to dance

…and she does.

10-13-26

*written to a workshop prompt, the word ‘Chutzpah’