Ode to an Exotic Dancer

And So,

You walk into the bar, and the air is filled with smoke
and the music is too loud, and you wonder why you came
until across the room you see her,
the blonde bronzed girl moving nude to the music, standing before an ancient truck driver
who has gripped more than his steering wheel with his hands of steel

And you want to run across the room
caress her soul
make love to her immaculate body near calm rivers in Nepal

And as you walk past her you look in her eyes, tough and empty,
that see nothing but visions of childhood,
visions of being molested by friends Father's
and by boys at the back of the bus,

And on her leg you see a tattoo symbolizing an Egyptian cobra said to protect her soul
as it passes through the underworld

And you wish you were that cobra, in this world
for she needs to see angels to restore her faith

And you want to search for, and find, her ageless broken soul
the one that has passed through nine dimensions,
and been blown through the breath of Christ
while he made love to the Devil
and gave birth to the Sun

And you want to present her soul, complete and whole,
on a gold platter stole
from a sand covered pyramid

But instead, you sit, pay five, stare at the curve of her breast
and the tiny hairs on her thigh
wanting your souls to collide
so together they can die
on a highway in the sun