And so, he asked his boys:

hey who’s that girl sitting by herself by the
corner- is she a party for the night, or just a drugstore
is that a spark in her eyes to call this a match;
or is she one fighting to not be boxed by love?

But for her:

she’s drinking something twice her age, but she
asks herself what’s the real age of being free- living
like a chemical, cos no one really knows the shape of
you soul, don’t you know?

She wore a wig only as a bold choice; she pulled it out
the closet filled with dust and shadows— searching for
a good time, passionate or novel. He looks to be strong
with his jawline; perhaps he’s taken a few by the chin;
so if she denies him, he probably won’t throw a fit