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Hookers On The Block

Juanita Rey

I stare and they stare back.

Their eyes are cold.
yellowish gray,
like frozen tears.
Their lips, at rest,
curl into hard little wrinkles
at the edges.

Their faces aren’t cruel
toward me
but nor are they sympathetic.

I know that expression.
It’s a show of strength
by the weakest among us,
a display of power
by those who have none.

They’d like nothing more
than for every man to feel
like they do,
hand-me-down, abused,
to penetrate with their contempt.
twist and grin
and watch the john squirm.

I’m dressed poor and sloppy.
Their clothes
keep close tabs on their shape
but are worn with more disdain
than style.

They work here.
I just live here.
We are sisters in disgust
but not in aberration.

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