Feminine Masculine Found Poem

The heartbeat of America, Las Vegas.
Bright lights, a flash of fuchsia,
a sparkling pink diamond on the finger of a newlywed
who is just leaving The Chapel of Love.
I work on the Las Vegas strip.
They think I’m only a waitress.
But when I leave the café, I go to The Live Jazz Club
where I perform my voodoo magic behind the microphone.
They all come to hear my one man show: the man in the expensive Calvin Klein suit (Ferrari black), the taxi driver, and the housewife alike.
I put on a mighty mauve dress, I’ve been told that it’s my color
since it compliments my peach parfait complexion.
The dark lights seem even less significant in comparison to my spotlight,
a single stream of light that follows me everywhere,
and the red velvet curtains become my backdrop.
They say that there is no such thing as true love in Sin City
But that is a lie, for music is mine.