Glass (Crank 2)

in a purple silk teddy. Her legs are too thin,

her own chest flatter than I remember, and

a thick layer of makeup barely disguises

sores. Monster sores. I chide myself

to slow down before I end up with sores.

Or here.

Unlike Her Apartment

Robyn’s room is neat.

Guess perverts dislike

having paid-for sex

amidst piles of clutter.

Like everything else here, it’s pink and gold

and sparsely furnished.

It smells of old sweat

and cheap perfume.

Robyn locks the door

and we sit on her bed,

just like in the good ol’

days. I’m pulling grave

yard so we don’t have

to hurry. Anyway, the

manager is a friend.

That’s how I wound

up here, in fact.

She tells me how she

met the guy, how he

talked her into “easy”

money, working in the

“entertainment industry.”

As she talks, I notice