In This Economy, We’re All Whores

[jessgotjimmies]

Taxi cabs worm through
the neon blur of a city
in its Lite-Brite masquerade,
toward a cheap motel
where a sign flickers
‘no vacancy’ --
quite contrary to the spirit
of its faceless pilgrims, the
glittering assholes, the
taxidermal beauties
whose secrets sink
under scarlet wallpaper
and soil the carpet
with their bullshit.
A cheeky little harlot
with butterscotch stilts
and a cherry pout
swings open the door
of a cabaret where
the wind-up dolls
play their night games.
It’s dark and still
her dead eyes hide
behind polarized moons;
mirror mirror, deja vu.
Inside, she collects a meager
tax and (securing it
beneath ripped fishnets
and boustier) begins
her sun dance seduction,
bruises, burns, and bite marks
veiled by the tangerine glow
and cigarette smoke screen.
The Burlesque queen
with her Kentucky Gentleman
and mescaline dreams,
romantic as spermicidal
lubricant and feels
about as much as
her anaesthetic cream. It’s
taxing work, being
a whore. But,
just like her clients,
she could use
a decent
job.

Maybe the
American Dream
isn’t so glamorous.