Smirked at, ****** on, pushed around, beat down
The ***** street corner is Tipsy Trixie's sin city playground.
She charges cheap,
because the black asphalt radiates the smoldering mid-July heat.
She hums "Hey Jude" as she struts up and down 9th Street.
She can't wear layers in the winter, because nobody can see the goods
underneath leg warmers , gloves, furs, and hoods.

Now Trixie is pregnant, 4 months...she's starting to show.
The days are getting longer but the business is slow.
"The Man" doesn't know.
He won't know...he can never know.
Trixie's been warned about the man.
He'll beat her up, and slice her open,
like a Chef Boyardee ravioli can.
Then he''ll sew her up and throw her back on 9th street,
to meet supply and demand.

Pardon me, but is something amusing you?
Must you mock everything I say and do?
Do you treat everyone you pass this badly?
Didn't anyone teach you how to behave properly?

One night, I could've sworn I heard you crying.
And yet you were still effing and blinding.
When in God's name will you mend your ways?
You're driving yourself to an early grave!

I wrinkled my nose
and said
It smells in here

You remarked
Maybe it wouldn't
stink so bad
if you'd clean the litterbox

Yes because
the litterbox
smells like
stale beer
and chewing
tobacco

*******.