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Barmaid
She threads through a crush of guffawing shoulders
swoops on empties.
We sense the alluring fiction of a nylon friction,
a diction of sexual parlance dipped in moist labor.
We breathe in the unsanitary flirtations of passing thighs,
ponder the lips-speak of cherry red suggestiveness.
Winks and smiles - eyes watch her sashay away
carrying a silver tray
with the crumpled green tokens of a trivial love.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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