Lucky

Robert Vain throws the girl a wink
And spots, on the still surface of his drink,
His reflection, smiles, and (to himself) thinks;
‘How lucky she is,
Getting to go home with this.’

The girl says something, to which he agrees,
Not really listening, just nodding absent-mindedly
And stroking his chiselled chin, he can hardly believe
‘How lucky she is,
Getting to go home with this.’

He laughs out loud and scans the bar they’re in
For other girls who will undoubtedly be watching him
But catches no looks (just bad timing), so he leans back in.
‘How lucky she is,
Getting to go home with this.’

She’s saying something, about someone, probably from her past.
Something about ‘not paying attention’ and ‘coming too fast’
And he thinks how happy she must now feel, that finally, at last,
‘How lucky she is,
Getting to go home with this.’

She finishes her little rant and ends it with a list
Then her eyes, across the table, meet with his.
So he leans in further, to give the girl a kiss,
‘How lucky she is,
Getting to go home with this.’

Surprisingly, she avoids the offering and stands up instead,
Removes a large vibrator from her purse and waves it at his head,
And he could only gawp, bewildered, as she triumphantly said;
‘How much luckier she now is,
Getting to go home with this.’