i could be a las vegas showgirl.
      i drive women wild.

      (see my see my


      no one
      gets like i do
      when i decide
      to glam up


      no one's legs go up to
      like mine do
      in a slitted black dress


      i am crossing to
      the backroom with some dame
      femme-close on my (high)
      feeling for my hand.  in a
      satin glove i close
      my fingers on hers
      before turning some dark corner
      and shoving her up against a wall
      like a girl
      to run my tongue on hers
      and feel her hipbones scream
      a raven-fire tattoo into mine
      when i curl her wild hair around
      my spiny fingers
      we are
      dancing, clandestined and panting,
      from side to side
      rocking manic.

      our sequins
      and stockinged legs

      tangled and shining.

                                  -meredyth smith