Squalid

Inhibitions, Suppressed by cowards water. Skirts ride half mast Grieving for the death of self respect. At ‘Chicago Rocks’ bar A place made to feel American There are Kosovan immigrants With acrylic patterned jumpers Tucked into Wranglers. There is a black man in the toilet Trying to sell ‘Pizazz’ to men who wear ‘Chanel’. I could love this place If monogamy stopped raping me, Yet a girlfiend at home waiting Was yesterdays whore gyrating? Steel bar Monkeys Change to 2am vultures Waiting for a ballad to bail them out, With the size 16 leaopardskin blouse killer Who has a great personality nobody wants. Maybe she sees a Goddess, Maybe she is? Maybe just maybe, What we seek is squalid.