.Dimple Cute.

.Dimple Cute.

Crisp edges of satin like wine
staining the smooth silk sliding
elegantly against the firm bosom
of this evening’s entertainment.
She steps down a stair.

Blue illumination from two tiny
lights in each step of the club.
The cheap electric fire place,
Africa’s sunset burning orange.
She stirs her drink and takes a swig.

Cotton candy flavoured vodka
sticking to the floor.
She slides down the rail.

By the overly cushioned couch
starved slim silhouettes,

one broad shouldered
glint tooth grin

And she smiles at the sir returning her stare.