Hooker

She tries to remain rigid,

even as her mouth continues to move

like strips of asphalt softening

through the pounding of life’s traffic.

She tries to bewitch her tricks,

as ancient strong hips

move like palm trees in cyclonic after-storm,

battered,

in want of rest.

Nightly lust reigns,

as she vies to just be.

Her duplicitous heart,

storms at her childhood,

as children of her born,

all betray the radiant face,

once with imaginings,

now of only forced smiles,

routines that die the death,

over…

and over.

Dreams of forever

trying to live out the past,

avoid the present,

visualize a future,

struggling to remain rigid,

bracing for yet another tomorrow,

the everyday hooker lament.