lost vaudeville stars staring at the revolving
ceiling, the tracking lights of the disco ball
hunt down our glittering eyes.
last year's cigarettes are smoked into the carpet.

all the glass is stars on the shelves
this room rotates. we teethed on our morals,
danced them down. the drinks tip themselves.
we might have been born here.

i, with my long hair tangled,
my fingers fumbling with the buttons
and your zipper fly, stifling hiccups
not giggling anymore, dodging myself

just ready to kick my legs, hitch up my skirt,
sing a short verse, and retire to-
i believe it's still a boudoir
where i keep the curtains drawn and the air close.

time takes us out behind the bright lights
you know what i mean,
when the smoke clears and whatever
romance we evoked has fled.

raucous laughter searches an exit from the night
our faces smirk back from the mirrors
remnants of makeup clown us
crown us our own gods.