She flung her long black silk gloves with purpose
Sultry seduction oozed from her pores
Glitter, 10 carat, catching the light
Stabbing her way forth with leg kicks
Spins with meaning, and poise, and grace
And I, the lucky sultan of pride
Roamed these dark corners like a dog on the prowl
Casually oozing my way down to the presence of seduction
“Don’t mind if I do” said the sultan’s eyes
Don’t mind if I do
Be spun, BE SPUN! Take down thee lights high
Faded pictures with memories
Glass jars and unmarked bars
Sipping noodles and dipping spoons
And absinth, delivered in the presence of one
Awake I ride, less intoxicated than tired
More humming than quiet, more left than taken
Sipping casually on the early morning tea
Remembering the accounts closed
And the hands all shaken; more held