Her profile reads “I dance for tips,
downtown in Portland.”
Most are looking for the next pair of lips
to kiss
between their legs.
But I'd like to hold
her hands
behind her back
as she bends over
realizes I don't drip ink,
or cash,
and wimpers.
A sugar-daddy?
With tattoos? No,
you might get an insurance salesman,
or occasional sports equipment re-saler
a single father or two
to pay for your tired, old
opinions.
Or you might stop dancing,
sell real-estate
your creativity decaying inside a white,
metal box
like those bloodied
tampons janitors were
embarrassed--
ashamed-- to pick up
in junior high bathrooms.
She might move back in with her parents
and fly
like some silken night-robe flapping on a clothesline all day Friday,
all day Saturday. Until lunch on Sunday,
when she pulls it down.
Or she'll flap that way
for years, on a line in Portland.
Until one day,
one day,
that man who won't hold her
in the shadows
will
come
with money,
tattoos abounding
and watch her dance
with tears
streaming
into the sheath of her time-worn robe
in afternoon sun.
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
Her profile reads “I dance for tips,
downtown in Portland.”
Most are looking for the next pair of lips
to kiss
between their legs.
But I'd like to hold
her hands
behind her back
as she bends over
realizes I don't drip ink,
or cash,
and wimpers.
A sugar-daddy?
With tattoos? No,
you might get an insurance salesman,
or occasional sports equipment re-saler
a single father or two
to pay for your tired, old
opinions.
Or you might stop dancing,
sell real-estate
your creativity decaying inside a white,
metal box
like those bloodied
tampons janitors were
embarrassed--
ashamed-- to pick up
in junior high bathrooms.
She might move back in with her parents
and fly
like some silken night-robe flapping on a clothesline all day Friday,
all day Saturday. Until lunch on Sunday,
when she pulls it down.
Or she'll flap that way
for years, on a line in Portland.
Until one day,
one day,
that man who won't hold her
in the shadows
will
come
with money,
tattoos abounding
and watch her dance
with tears
streaming
into the sheath of her time-worn robe
in afternoon sun.
MMXII
A tattooed sugar-daddy seemed like two specific, yet vague, attributes to be searching for on a dating profile.
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