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There’s a scent in the air

The smell of old smoke

An old man in the corner

Laughs aloud, at his jokes

Another scream in the night

Someone else has been scorned

Now tattered and wasted

Her face is forlorn

Stilettos stagger against pavement

Cobbled streets make no noise

She hears sounds, from the bar

Just the usual ole boys

They’ll playfully tug at her

Sinister, perverse, as they flirt

Taunting and teasing

And grabbing her skirt

But she knows in her heart

She will never surrender

She leans over, whispers to me

“Make it a double, bartender …”


©Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0