Seven lighted little Muranos
define my Friday evening.
The Casablanca fan
turns slowly.
That always touches
steamy tawdry for me.

Only the lovely
come here.
Oh yes, the beautiful people
slow down a degree.

Drinks beckon love.
Drinks beckon me.
My little Muranos
pourin' light
through me.

It's just a scenic life
she leads.
Just a stop.
Just to see.

She crosses her legs.
(Sigh)
They always cross
their legs.

Such power
atop
the mammalian tree.

I love it
when they cross
their legs
for me.

Rockin', just rockin'.
Low juke box
Low Murano
Mesmerizin'.

Those legs
just scissorin'
and unscissorin' me.

I love my lighted
little Muranos.
The fan turns
just enough heat.