Daniel B. Silver

LAS


 

The glittering lights beam on the Las Vegas Strip
They are just a stone’s throw from the gates of the airport coded LAS
Blue bulbs burn brilliantly on the runway’s edge
Guiding planes to earth and hopeful tourists to rumors of fortune
Or lovers to clandestine meetings in hotel rooms, limousines and taxi cabs
Slot machines, they chitter, chirp and chime
They flaunt like street girls on a city corner dressed to the nines
Thumping bass lays out a bounding heartbeat at 120 BPM
Bare or beatified bodies undulate and sway as a result
Poolside they dance or in densely packed clubs they frolic
Drinking, merriment and searches for a hookup to occupy the late night
Smoke whispers whimsically into the air at the casino’s central bar
From pursed scarlet lips it echoes its odor to the olfactory center
Of course you’d scan for the source and smile at the sultry sight of a black dress and heels
Gamble a smile and perhaps win one back or garner the snake-eyes of a dismissive gaze
Soon goose-bumps rise up under palm from scented skin that seems too perfect
The wetness of her sex makes undulating fingers glide down below
Through the maze of lights, sounds and smells you found another’s touch
Lips met and intimacies consummated behind closed doors marked DO NOT DISTURB
A phone number on the nightstand is all that’s left behind in the morning
The beaming lights leave tracers from speeding headlights like time slowed
On the westbound freeway or eastbound highway they drive
Leaving Las Vegas with headaches and memories in tow
Having lived largely in its visceral glory or wallowed in its viscera most gory
Of course they will return though; they can’t stay away long
Because momma and poppa need new pairs of shoes
The glittering lights of the Las Vegas Strip shine sharply overhead
Advertising the unlikely oasis of adventure that it promises to be