Thighs On My Head (Chicken Fight) Poem by David Welch

A broad, Las Vegas swimming pool,
still open the late in the night,
my buddy stands across from me,
and on his broad shoulders alights

a tall and olive-skinned beauty,
not two hours ago they met,
on my shoulders a small red-head,
who goes by the name of Yvette.

We met them drinking in a bar,
but it was such a quiet scene,
then my buddy had an idea,
I usually know what that means.

But tonight caught me by surprise,
a chicken fight…what are the odds?
To my shock the girls both agreed,
in that moment my friend was a God.

So now this bikini-clad girl
is clamping toned thighs 'round my head,
we charge with a drunken bellow,
but I see we're already dead.

My friend stands tall at six-foot-five,
and his lady-friend is tall too,
they have leverage, Yvette falls off,
takes me down to the water blue.

We all pop up and start laughing,
and to me this vixen does cling,
I know I'll feel thighs on my head
later, when we're all done ‘fighting.'

Viva Las Vegas.