porkies strip bar, 4am

George tells us about playing Scrabble with his mother
as a salt-and-vinegar eyed blonde
offers surround sound views
of knees, ankles, breasts

They have a navy bound book to record their scores, although if they get less than 800 they don’t bother.

Crotches waft by, naked, hairless, innocuous as collarbones.
Whisky is spilt.

George would like to buy me a lapdance
and watch.

Tangle knuckleless fingers through his fly,
fumbling wet thoughts of
triple word scores.