copyright � Andi Dawson
The girls at the bar were busy giggling.
Their asses, unsupported by g-strings, were rhythmically wiggling;
As men watched cleavage, hands in pockets, change jingling.
The music played loudly, drums beating.
Drinks flowed freely, the buttons on the till constantly bleeping;
As predators spied prey, eyelashes were flapping, hormones seeping.
The smoke filled air choked strangers� kissing,
Wives looked for lovers, vows forgotten, wedding rings missing;
As numbers changed hands, jealous onlookers standing hissing.
The men in the corner, wide smiles flashing,
Their girlfriends at home, kids in the bath, splishy-splashing;
As ladies offered favours, off to the toilets, quickly dashing.
The machine in the gents busily giving
Men demanding protection, avoiding disease, content with living
As women hitch up skirts, make-up smudged, bright lights unforgiving.
The lights flickered on, the night ending
Another fling over, lives to return to, no more pretending
As taxis fly by, people calling home, lies unending.
