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She slipped into the single’s club, 
where an assortment 
of horny guys and lonely hearts had assembled. 
Some were there hoping to find that "special" someone 
and some had come to chase away the blues,
 tinkling ice in cocktail glasses soon to be refilled.  
Others, who  might be labeled commitment phobic,
 had simply come to case the place for an easy lay.

Swinging svelte, mini-skirted hips lasciviously, 
she strutted over to the counter 
on legs that looked their longest and most shapely 
from being hoisted on high red heels.  
Every pair of eyes was trained on her. 

 Some in the club gawked 
with eyes that hid beneath mascara-painted lashes, flitting envy. 
Others leered with pupils dilating lust 
from ogling the two soft protrusions in her tight white turtleneck.  
Then with pink champagne in hand, 
the goddess turned and surveyed her audience, 
most of whom by now had looked away. 

One remained, mesmerized, with eyes riveted on her. 
He quivered when she caught his gaze 
and strolled over to where he sat.  
As she approached, he marveled at her face -
 the chiseled cheekbones strong and high, 
the dark eyes, luminescent and immense, 
and curiously, an upturned nose so delicate 
it seemed almost too perfect, 
like one acquired from a sculptor’s hands.  

He gulped when she asked him for a dance, 
and as he asked this intriguing lady’s name, 
he wondered at the timbre of her voice, 
so provocative and low as she tossed dark brown locks
 and said seductively, 
“My name is Lola. L-O-L-A , Lola.”



Inspired by an old song from the 70's and 
used now for Skat's the Premiere Contest number 10 Poetry Contest

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