Royse Volume 4

A dirty dress
and silver shoes.
The world to gain
and nothing to lose.

I bounce as the bullet rocks back and forth
and light flashes on the faces of the dirty and the uncomfortable.
The turquoise leather seat is ripped and nasty.
I just got several hundred dollars BY BEING BAD.
Somehow, as I exit quickly, I leave my stub behind.
And no one blinks a perfect or broken eyelash.

The street, a place where I belong and barely belong,
is cold and complacent... and rain-stained.
Yellow-white eyes are staring, and that's all.
My old, battered heels are DIGGING DEEP DOWN.
I hardly notice the pain, as I am conditioned,
a ballerina on a stage of asphalt and dirty motel beds.

Supporting the fish that need to swim daily
through the canals beneath my itchy skin.
A key taped to the stairwell, and I pray no one
sees me, no one notices, because HIS HAND HOLDS
my mouth closed forever and always and nevermore, I lie.
When I am inside, I crash on the couch, tired and smelly

with sweaty hair
and too-tight shoes.
With everything to gain
and more freedom to lose.