Angel

He never knew her name, she went by her street name
and that was fine with him as long as she answered.
Sure, baby, there are bad times we couldn’t get through
fast enough, you call me a snob and I, You whore,
and we stay away from home as long as it takes
to find and pick up the pieces of the puzzle,
then leave them where we put them and go back to bed
ice cold, pretty soon hot, well, you know how it goes,
you’ve been around and back and I’ve indulged my part
of the street and you don’t go past this place or that,
our lives are spliced forever between our gone flesh
with its pockets sagging weary of the life lost
fucking around and letting the johns come on in 
and stay as long as it takes for them to pay off
the moon shining down in the alley for its light.

(23 April 2013)

copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander