WITH PRAYERS TO OUR LADY OF THE ASPHALT
by Jnana Hodson
In the congregation of pleasure:
Some are fat; some, skinny.
Some cute; a few, beautiful.
They smile, frown, dimple, blink.
Hair short, curled, long and free.
They come from anywhere.
“Roger was in my room again till five
telling me he didn’t want to sleep alone again,”
she said, glancing at her lover
while he simply smiled, facing away.
One votive burns
twice as fast
as the other.
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