She plays him; and she plays him well
The city boy, on the steps of hell
The lonely man; the lust-filled lech; the beer-swilled boor; the perverted wretch

She flaunts her physique, in honey-pot gold
Priceless, yet poorless; a gift to be sold

The allure to come hither and smell her perfume
The enticement to enter the lap-dancer’s room

A vamp, a ghost of delights never rendered
The mark takes the bait; with his wallet surrendered

He looks for a connect; a nexus of souls
She wonders: who’s next; in this ocean of fools

And the black, soulless eyes show no flicker of hope
The pay-pig grunts and sighs; another mark on a rope

As time rolls her out, like a faded worn carpet
She takes a look back: was it worth it?

©️ copyright Stephen