I’ll Take the Love and Not the Money, Plus Some Oysters by the Half Shell

All I want is a dozen oysters at the hotel bar,
no mignonette or lemon required,
and don’t the best nights start this way:
I’m hankering for an iced seafood platter
or a dirty martini with extra olives, or the seven-star suite,
bowling alley and stripper pole included
for a little I-won’t-tell-if-you-don’t-tell-2-AM-dance
where I’ll take the clothes off your back,
you applaud, and room service of filet mignon
and garlic mashed potatoes miraculously appears,
and don’t you dare betray me the way James Bond
killed that stunner-of-a-Godiva-woman-walking-her-
white-horse-on-the-beach-a-green-bikini, after
they rolled around on the white fur carpet, and before
their room service of caviar and Prosecco arrived,
but instead of all of the above, tonight,
I end up with $1000 in chips at the Blackjack table
because some guy I met at a Scottsdale bar
called a limo to Talking Stick Casino & Resort,
insisting I play the role of eye candy,
but no, I’m not the girl who blows on dice for luck,
so, he buys me that $1000—will I take the lust
or just run with the money, picturing ’90s Demi Moore
rolling in the dough, in her prime, what an Indecent
Proposal, and oh, the thought of starring in an XXX
where money’s the lover is just so appealing,
but I think the answer is I’ll steal the $$$
and be with the one I actually love, but is it stealing
if it’s rightfully mine—how the best feeling in life
is a beautiful woman whispering in your ear
or what about Botticelli’s Venus rising out of that scallop shell,
her Victoria’s Secret curls ready for a little romp
on a seashell bed like an Old Hollywood actress playing
peek-a-boo of find the pearl, spread my legs,
cater to my every whim, pearls wrapped around my breasts,
a pearl necklace as a thong, or what about Japanese
love hotel roleplay where we get it on to the fish and mermaids
in this make-believe tank of a wall, or if you’d prefer,
we can watch the solar system, and all I want is a dozen
oysters from the hotel bar, and I’ll leave the money,
and instead we can have nicer things like spaceships
and shellfish and romantic tension, and oh, oh,
your face, smiling underneath the sheets
when room service knocks on our bedroom door.