Jackpot Poem by Charles Lara

Waiting for the slots to roll
in my favor
I place another dollar
and a second
and to make sure
I am covered
I put in a third
into the video slot machine.
“ May I get you a cocktail, sir? ” says a woman
in her twenties
well-endowed
with incredible soft looking skin
not a blemish in view
I watch her like T.V.
She smiles back and I
give her a tip
and then ask for a Myers and Coke.
“ Absolutely, I’ll be right back...” she walks away
swaying her hips in bohemian rhythm
casting her shadow
of long fine legs into
the crowed room of winners
and I think how
high cut Paris design
cocktail waitress uniforms
always make everybody
come back for more
as nothing but
a ring streams
out from the machine
and I see there are
no red cherries on the line
so I put in three more coins
and wait for my drink
to come back
to smell her soul again.