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# Last Call
- URL: https://www.hawkword.com/poetry/last-call/
- Published: 2023-01-11T12:00:00.000Z
- Updated: 2023-01-11T12:00:00.000Z
- Description: The Hudson River Club, September 10th I must confess, I love the pumpkin soup. If memory serves right, at any length… The waiter pays attention to our group – no, not quite wolves of Wall St., maybe pups -- the sun is...
- Author: A. Gee
- Tags: Poetry, Sonnet, Allpoetry Import, #Import 2026-04-25 19:56

The Hudson River Club, September 10th  
I must confess, I love the pumpkin soup.  
If memory serves right, at any length…  
The waiter pays attention to our group –  
no, not quite wolves of Wall St., maybe pups --  
the sun is setting over flashy yachts.  
The river flows, as does the wine. Our cups  
are never empty. As my buddy spots  
some master of the universe nearby,  
I signal “check”. The waiter reappears.  
We might just be the last ones. Buddy’s high.  
The night is young: coke, wine, a bunch of beers…  
I text my boss: tomorrow, I’ll be late.  
She says: I’ll handle it, I’m in at eight.

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**Author notes:** https://www.chefdb.com/pl/4366/Hudson-River-Club-New-York This is an entirely true story.