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the room
is smoke filled
pulsing with music
flowing booze like
fountains
at midnight
bouncing off
social butterfly beauty queens
in dresses
too tight
and hair too coiffed,
lips
too
painted
like
cheap pinked (Im)perfections.
clothes soiled
by
greedy hands
grasping
for slender hips
her
'for sale' sign
brings tears
to
my eyes