Heels higher than her
blood-alcohol level
Gaze further than the years between herself
And a man across the bar without a name
Let the tabs roll up
With his satin blue sleeves
Friday's pay checks wasted
Spent like the law clerks in the red leather corner booth
Cigar smoke coats the curls around her ears,
Camouflages itself in the shadows upon his aging hairline
Her shawl is coated with sequins and musk
And his hands beg to add a third layer
The paler man beside him marries thick glass to wood
He slurs out round five
The air tastes like ***** and vanilla ice cream
Her ruby lips the cherry on top
The hangover hits harder
When his head hits the pillow
His cloudy azure eyes open
And the daydream mistress becomes a fog