poetry “Poker Peepshow”

poker peepshow

The private dancing, backroom type of club

 

Dirty martini, two olives, straight up

 

A game of poker, some sleight of hand

 

Room filled with liars and cheaters

 

A full house

 

Suits and ties with acquired taste

 

Scantily clad and Chantilly lace

 

A Gentlemen’s club with none to spare

 

Open box of Gurkha Black Dragons

 

The stench filling the air

 

The stakes are high

 

Heated testosterone rush

 

Hungarian skin for all to touch

 

Arousing both curious peaks

 

With deuces in hand

 

Straddling bets before you see

 

A ballsy wager

 

Holding bottom pair

 

A vision of ecstasy

 

Bending on knees

 

Four of a kind

 

Ace-high

 

A game of heads-up

 

Placing the blind

 

No limping in with this hand in play

 

I call

 

You raise

 

Alluring and tempting to go all in

 

Stack my chips

 

The house takes its rake

 

First the flop

 

Anticipate the turn

 

Down the wet river you go

 

If you have to leave on the bubble

 

What better way to end the series

 

Than to have the release

 

That’s worth at least double
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