He moves out from the shadows

Stepping under the spotlight streetlight sign

Dark coat fedora and a single smoke signal curls

Up and around

No words spoken as he leans against

The lamp post

Waiting patiently for

The patent sound

Of her heels hitting the sidewalk

To take him off his guard

A lipsticked pencil skirted honey

With too much to lose

And not enough to give

From the short change she has earned

From other people’s tips

Carefully hiding the blisters

From six hours on her feet

And the hard-pressed looks

From the wolves and foxes

The whistles and bristles

From the five o’clock shadow

And midnight bourbon breath

That frequents the downtown dive

That masquerades

As cool and expensive

For patrons of sleaze and easy

On the eye

They who wanted a gold-plated service

For a couple of buttons and a quarter

But she thought only of the dirty screwed up bills

That line her jar at home

At the end of another night of

On the tiles of someone else’s

Smooth and buttoned down

Idea of a goodtime laced with whiskey

And sweet sugared perfumed smiles

In the heady paint the town red winks

Of drunken sailors and carousing office clerks

He waits

He stubs out a smoking burn

He walks her back

Away from the scurrying rats

To the clean and stain free apartment

As she sinks into his arms

Asleep already

The fedora smiles and sighs a resigned sigh

And lights another cigarette

Before drifting off

Into a land of make believe

Where the sharks don’t bite

And the wolves have all gone home

To their mothers