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Malodorous tavern’s garret, the codger it accommodates, No more,
Fuzzled in brew, his fuzzy lady, her life she lives to abhor.

Randy colleen gape at her with aghast,
Talk around that she has “the dead hands of the past”.

At the dimly lit square by the infamous tavern to wing-ding they wait,
For, the rambunchous easy-riders pack  to come and then for the night in the tavern, date.

At the  ethereal  hours they zoom past the village square,
Into the tavern to spew balderdash laced cheap brew and some lusting care.

A handsome bloke from the pack, in the tavern glances hither and yon,
Probing eyes, hunt for his affaire de Coeur  “Talulah”, in the clobber stone background they search on.

In the quaint stony corner to the coarse music she vacillates,
To the ogling eyes of drunken kaboddle see dullness in the glow she radiates.

At bar side two gender benders laxly shilly shally, 
A hooligan lambastes them and drags them into the lonely dark alley.

  now caught her naughty nodding assent,
 Moves forward to fuming whiffs of her sweet love scent.

tease, she tries to shilly shally coyly,
 usurps her with a warm embrace & wanting lips seem frothy and oily.

A drunken nitpicker watches them embrace,
Unbound desires  &  lusting bodies brush each other in ecstatic grace.

Garret of this tavern, this bloke in the past many poems, here he wrote,
Is the quintessential den for passions to devote.

Landlady’s acquiesce they seek with a chuckling wink,
abso-bloody-lutely sure they drag themselves up, passions dripping over control’s brink.

On these stony steps they cold-cocked a  sleeping drunk,
His pinch-penny ways drives him here, this was to be his stony bunk.

Atop the garret the constricted interstitial pathway,
Is for them an Ideal space to caressand play.

Din of the drunken kaboodle keeps drowning,
Muffed by the rhythmic breaths of pulsating bodies the feelings crowning.

Glissade rhythmic plunge is tunnelish dark,
Two of them merge into one, glowing like electric arc.

With passion’s jim -jam spent, my eyes open from these picturesque dreams,
Will have them repeat  tonite it seems.

joyous hand stretches towards the lying gizmo, the TV  to watch,
the Disney channel  “Mickey mouse” carton  has been topnotch.

Had I had the hindsight of, with striving content, completing this in one sitting,
Debbie, I would have worked on this poem earlier, for the contest submitting.
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