Pimp

 

Eyes of a double-hung window

 look sheepishly upon the

dim light of the social worker

 who trods the streets of Manati

 

She carries a syringe for elevation

 and tells of its insulin forming

capabilities when questioned by

authority

The eyes are propped open

 for her sake

 

Closing or falling shut would leave her

 vulnerable for outside is where she

wants to be

Needs to be

 Needing and craving whatever it is

  that will keep all eyes on her

And making her feel empty until full

 with trash and exposure

 

Her syringue waits for someone else to

fill it

 

 Nightly tirades of Russian Roulette

have exhausted her and her resources

 

If only the windows would stay shut

 maybe she could rest in peace