by on June 25, 2008 :: 0 comments

That small waist
turned heads in the tavern.
Glasses were
emptied as eyes followed
the small waist.

Is she a prostitute asked a woman?
Why don’t you ask her, said the
man she was with?
The woman gave the man she was
with an icy stare.

The small waist
walked out of the tavern.
A blue-eyed,
mascara stained prostitute
livened things up for a moment.

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