It was tragic the way her beauty jumbled
round her teeth as she spoke, how it fled from her eyes
and nestled among the tufts of hair, blond, straightened,
low-lighted. Her white tank, a sheet draped over breasts
and cinched at the waist, enchanted the table
and perplexed this A-cup. But it was her mouth we watched,
clumsily trying to shape slurred thoughts into an answer.
Minutes passed, enough for a few sips of lager
and a mental investigation into the physics of her shirt.
At last, thick-lipped, eyes wide in ecstasy,
she blurted a Thirty that surprised us with clinked glasses.
A round of good-guesses bubbled up across the table
and for a moment, her beauty undammed itself at the ears
and rushed in, pink and alive. As it was, the bet
had already been lost. We were just curious to see.
She stumbled off frame.