International Sisterhood of Daytime Sex Workers (or A Union Song for Hookers)
by BusbarDancer
Speaking of how
these Ladies of the Night
must hate Daylight Savings Time
since the sun doesn’t set until nine, and
the cloying summer scent of honeysuckle
drowns the smell of their knock-off Gucci Guilty.
Except there’s that one A.M. Pro
who works the whole stretch in front of
The Towing and Recovery Museum
from 7 something till lunch.
She’s tried to keep a low profile, but
is hoping to meet that one lonesome soul
who needs to get blown
at ten o’clock in the goddamn morning.
Sometimes I wave at her when I drive by,
wishing her the best,
whatever that may look like...
The fasten seatbelt warning light is flashing on my dashboard but
I’m buckled in, rest assured.
That’s probably important, but
it’s like what Don Q whispered to Sancho through the Spanish gloom:
“I need you.”