A Christmas Present

I’m on a highbacked sofa in the Al-La-Deen,
I got a scotch & water workin an another
on the table. There’s this chick doin the popcorn
tryin t’get her tights straight an a off-duty priest
sluggin on a warm beer. The bartender’s dryin a glass
when the door opens an in walks this Amazon, 6′ if she’s an inch. She’s got this long, shiny black hair that looks like combed tar,
an when she takes the seat cross from me I bout shit.
The bartender comes round t’get her order for a gin over
while I light the cigarette she’s squeezin & pushin
with lips that work like bellows. We got it together,
I think, when she leans down with this big grin
an starts t’shimmy from the seat, reeel slow,
til she’s up all the way an reachin for this switch­
The next thing I know she’s got her hair off
and she’s hangin it over a chair, an then her lips, an nose an…
she keeps takin it all apart and layin it down
til there ain’t nothin left cept her eyes
lookin up from the palm a one hand, an I see
the priest’s asleep an the bartender’s readin the scores
so I gulp my scotch t’make it
when this mouth comes off the table growlin
“Where in the hell you goin with my new toy”.