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Poem

I saw this movie about a woman who was beautiful 
and when she entered the casino floor her blonde hair said,
 ”Hi! “… and the high rollers, the janitor and the fat greeter, 
felt more relaxed, more  secure, she could do that…with that 
special thing she had,

and she always came in at the same time, when the floor was getting busy 
and the roulette wheels were white hot with hope and charisma,
and they loved her, saying she brought good luck and fortune,  
and  the shmucks, with silver dollar ties and  western hats, 
bet  their boots away for a smile and look at her bouncing rack…

see…she wasn’t plain, no, no, not at all… she’d had three kids and was
still every fat girl’s nightmare…a gazelle, with long slender legs and 
an hour-glass waist…her job was to work the room and push on
losers to lose and winners to book a room…and they knew it…and
they were suckered  by her Learjet eyes and they didn’t care,

and she smelt  good, very good, of oranges, pine and sweet hibiscus 
which drifted across the room … but you couldn’t touch her .. .no you
wouldn’t want to do that…you could look until your eyes became
poker chips, and everybody knew and they made their bets and they
looked and drooled  and betted and drank and smoked and won and lost,
but they never  touched…no, no…they never did that.

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