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 /