Ms. Hansen sits alone
her dusty pink dress starting to wrinkle
She hungers for someone
anyone
to open her up and love her
or use her

He would extend one claw
Rough and scarred
           chewed nails
She’d take it
perfectly manicured
his tongue would taste of spiteful intent  
and smoke  

The air stinks jovial
Alcohol scalds tongues
She kills brain cells
Only an observer  

                     watching others picked
          skirts twirling
dancing

an eternal wall flower