dirty old men in cars under dim street lights
dirty sidewalks, broken glass catching headlights as they slow
her clothes hang loose on what is left of her person
and none of us are so far from that as we might think
as we turn away, walk past, pretending not to notice
but i want to take her skeletal hand and pull her away from his
dirty old man promises of filthy money, from what he will do to her
what he will make her do to him
i want to, but i keep walking, and she stays in my head
and it will happen again, and again, and again

and every time i think of her
i will wonder if anyone loves her
but mostly, i will wonder how
standing on a dirty street corner, surrounded by broken glass
and dirty old men in cars
ended up being all that she thinks she is worth.

and she is there again
as i am waiting for the bus

another car slows, another man
who doesn't care how broken she is..

and i just can't stop expecting more from all of us.

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