Breaking the Ice

Donning a neck tie and drinking a spritzer,
Standing away from the gasps and the laughter,
Our hero is peering through the block of ice
That separates him from the lovely dame
Dressed in bulls-eye red across the room.
Perhaps, if he stares hard enough,
The ice will melt, like taking it within his hands
And melting it with the warmth of his skin.
But no, levity is his gift,
And he'll wield is like a pick
As he makes his way across the room
Thinking of something to say.
Finally, he is near her--
She's standing aloof, though the smell of
Her perfume shows that she is anything but.
"Hello," he says.
She turns to him--she is cross-eyed.
His heart turns to ice.
"Hello," she says.
The ice is broken.