The sexpot clattered into the emergency room
on three inch heels
with the fuck me pumps
spilling out of her purse.
As she looked out the reflective window
she saw her hair and mascara
were good enough for this late night visit.

She slid money into slots
at the vending machine
collected her chips and soda
looked around spasmodically
and moved back to the cubicle
where her drunk boyfriend
was hooked to an electronic barf bag.

She settled in for a slow
hungover night
of convalescence
while I waited for intake
on my permanent tumescence.

I never got a chance
to ask for her number
and never got a chance
to again longingly leer
at her tight tight butt.