Deja Vu

I sit at the round table
Drink in hand - 
The purest nectar
Cigarette crackling between my lips
Puffing my thoughts to the wind.
A women approaches
Glowing
Florescent in the dim uncertain room
Just above the whipping beats
She speaks my name
I am puzzled

On stage - 
Her hips pumping and gyrating in time
A folded dollar bill
Dirty with greed
And my desire
Placed between her wanting breasts
Violently slapped against my face
Smooth
A sweet smell fills my nostrils
A whispered thank you and a kiss on the cheek
My angel is a centerfold