burly gents in waxed mustache
line wooden tavern walls
intently scoping fresh hams
eyes bulge and saliva drips
one might think
they never saw a woman
wolfishly staring pondering dinner
to chew through satin of blue
and expose soft pink delicacy
Cosby considerations in the lonely afternoon
Can I get you a drink?
May I hold your purse?
lost in character
the would be ******
holds the door
smiles
looking at an
apple shaped bottom
as they enter, together,
the establishment /