Candle lit room
Illuminated by moon light
A faint smile from the unknown lady of the night

I found her wandering in the boulevard
She's smiling for a person with unsatisfied carnal desires

She undresses and starts spreading sheets above us
Faint scent of her hair
A beauty, no doubt

I listened to her stories with a lit cigarette
How she used to be an honor student

She undresses me and kisses me
She knows where to lead her mouth and hands
She moves- making me quiver with her damp thighs

I will never know your name.
Only the shared cigarette and your story

She slides it in- Moaning, scraping, pulling, tugging.
I lost myself in ecstasy falling in my vivid dreams in the hedonist dimension of the universe.

*She grabbed my wallet and ran.
She opened it; and saw a picture of herself in my arms as a toddler.

A star with night between her teeth; a girl
Staggers a dance of seven heels, less six.
Cues strewn along her route: a pin, a pearl,
A tired, ****** queen a-lean on bricks.
 
Though under veil of spotlight she makes sway,
No trace of rule remains on head or feet.
Each sunset swallowed before birthing Day
To toss to sirens feeding in the street.
 
Nocturnal vagrants fever dreaming deep
Her cafe consorts, seeking but a friend.
Mascara floods downstream where ducklings sleep,
So get her to a bed and to an end.
 
And though low trolls will ever tweet her shame
Each morning's jay will always sing her name.

Lipgloss dripping candy lacquer aquamarine
Wrought silk enfolding shadows of her shoulders obscene
Drugstore ribbon laced her feet just as in my dream
She reduces me to liquid in an urban machine
On the asphalt a virile shellac.
 
Power like a thousand ships of industry steel
Columns fall to soldiers at the clack of her heel
Sirens’ polished poisoned fruit that drives one to ****!
A Dahlia's vitality shunted and left to congeal
In that pool, then a wave of relief.

Ringed fingers run across sculpted chests,
and they don their red stained lipstick vests.
"Roxanne" plays in the background,
and it feels like raindrops falling down,
because my eyes are cold, and blue, and wet.

Misty eyes and tired smoke
breathe deep through aching, weary lungs.
We cry in alleyways and choke
on strange bedfellows with probing tongues.
My heart is filled with tear stained jokes.
My jeans are filled with crumbled ones.

My dog walks are getting crowded,
Drag the main, the girl, she asked,
"I know this is a random question"
as startled I close the gate,
"But do you have any plastic bags?"
"No" said I, and stood to wait
for her to move out of the way,
there was enough time to take in her face,

her life was rough her face said so, but
no language it spoke but two, body and *****,
it made me walk the other way as she turned the
way I normally do,  that face textured, maybe
crack pipe burns from in her youth...

As I walked quickly away large trucks rolled quickly by
I turned to keep an eye them, caught her, in the corner of my eye
following, and not very discreetly.....

What is the difference,
Asked the educator,
Between being skillful,
Such as a *******,
And being educated,
Such as a teacher?

*Well, replied a prostitue,
One educates skillfully,
The other skillfully educates.

Which is which?
The educator responded.

Depends, said the *******,
On the pay and benefits.

My tie is formal; the coat's leather dark.
Face rugged; unshaven, eyes twinkling bright.
Perfect features form a question mark:
Would you care, perhaps, to stay the night?

If you told me no, you'd not be the first,
but I doubt you'd regret it over much
if you used my body to sate your thirst.
Just leave the money on the dresser, if that's your intent.
It's free to look, but it costs to touch;
Even pretty boys have to pay the rent.

She's dressing up like an angel,
with wings on the corners of her eyes
and a halo around her neck.
Glitter-glossed lips to lock in a smile,
tightly winding a dress around her hips;
she's dressing to forget.
There's nothing good about a girl who is sad.

And she's got a tremble in her fingertips,
her pulse pressing against her skin
as she stares at the creature in the mirror.
Two dull eyes with a sad silver lining,
and a broken blush upon her cheeks;
she's seeing things that aren't her.
There's nothing good about a girl who is sad.

And she exhales tired sighs,
with failed wishes and last minute hopes,
letting it all die away with the rest of herself.
Because her mother never taught her love,
and her father never showed her what's right;
only leaving her to fall into the dangers of the world.
*There's nothing good about a girl who is sad.

Johanna, Joanna,
Ella paga mañana
Volver para un frente
Teniendo la mente
Sin ropa, sin aire
Asfixia sin despair

(Johanna, Joanna
She'll pay tomorrow
Come back for a front
Having the mind
Without clothes, without air
Choking without despair)