Untitled
by travis

on the corner sits
Mrs. Rosie
Mrs. midnight special smiles
at the neighbors
down in Mexico
moon shine down her dress front
till spilling to the scum
on the street
go go Mrs. special
midnight lady
collecting money and greaving waves
from cans of boys
and from gallons of men
she lay down as
easy as a train rail
and sleeps heavier
than a dead eyed dog and
the tears fall from her face
cause Wednesday is the last day
this hooker is alive and well
no red door to the
weather hand killing
shes fighting with
all that sit at windows and bark
like old men.