Round the snooker table she walked
Leaving behind her a trail of sex and high spirits
She was the last pure rose I ever saw
And when I followed her out of the building
Down the steps and out into
The cold night air,
even the overwhelming smell of street garbage
Could not take my attention from her wiggling behind
She leapt into the taxi with an assurance that defied her
Early age.
Through the smoked glass of the window
I could see her pull her purple Skirt to cover her
thighs
She didn’t wave with her hands
but her eyes passed over me twice
And I felt more alive then ever.
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