Waiting for the slots to roll <br />in my favor <br />I place another dollar <br />and a second <br />and to make sure <br />I am covered <br />I put in a third <br />into the video slot machine. <br />“ May I get you a cocktail, sir? ” says a woman <br />in her twenties <br />well-endowed <br />with incredible soft looking skin <br />not a blemish in view <br />I watch her like T.V. <br />She smiles back and I <br />give her a tip <br />and then ask for a Myers and Coke. <br />“ Absolutely, I’ll be right back...” she walks away <br />swaying her hips in bohemian rhythm <br />casting her shadow <br />of long fine legs into <br />the crowed room of winners <br />and I think how <br />high cut Paris design <br />cocktail waitress uniforms <br />always make everybody <br />come back for more <br />as nothing but <br />a ring streams <br />out from the machine <br />and I see there are <br />no red cherries on the line <br />so I put in three more coins <br />and wait for my drink <br />to come back <br />to smell her soul again.<br /><br />Charles Lara<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/jackpot/
