Carpet of luck,
A fabulous card of twenty million dollars,
Partnering with stakes to give blue, yellow, and pink, Mouth that knows it all, Jack of all trades.
Let it be known that the jackpot can only be won with its name.

Master chefs they called themselves,
Extremely done and half-done package,
Arrogance wore them like clothes,
Ladies with brains but no sense,
Beauty lost in deceit.

Skimping, short skirt, gown,
Colored face, wet lips,
Movement brought life to the party,
And here they come, "the blide" of the night.

DJ play the song, for the chickens are ready to dance,
They stretch their wings,
squawking and ready to take flight,
Afrobeat, rock, blues; Twerking, smooching,
A live blues for eyes to see.

Chug down, one shot, two shots,
Blank eyes, emotions override,
Squeeze or be squeezed, the party starts,
Sweat, slick, dance....
Spilled and dripped, a waste of liquid.

But in mind, I hunger entirely for another,
Longing for when that day will come for me,
For one year is not a joke.
A canvas of memories for a night like last night,
And the night that was yet to come!

© chayansays...