Drinks Tainted with Finagled Intents

Windshield wipers exert their best
Holding out hope past the dusk,
Rigid steering holds course
 the wills wield the wheels grounding club
Rolling ambitions for the floor,
Where the choice be the bar at the roof
Topped by soft respite in the callous breeze
Carrying amber notes through the concrete roots
Reverberating Bass burgeon OOo000s
That vertically engulf & hula hoop
 the shimmering shoulders and vivacious hips
Tiki-taki swaying like island trees
Dance fevers pitch escalates
Sweat beads on fabrics
Fresh salt wicking away
Melanin illuminated
The temperature is simmering 
Over on the glass stove
A row of potent remedies
The handles elaborate
A hand Strone from the emptiness
Demanding attention
Between awaiting patrons
with a card and a smirk
Asserting on the amicable ambience
Ordering a drink for two,
One un-be-knowingly glassed,
for you
purveyor of the parched
The bar is wet
The potion slides to your grip
But was it water or slime on which it slid?
And do you have the first sip?
Wink, enjoy, groove to the payee’s insistent patronage
Question the abrupt thoughts of an empty stomach
Elbow pardon your way to the water closet (W.C.)
Hold your head,
Wonder if the last one
Was tainted with finagled intents?
 

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