I love the ones . . .
I love the ones who pay,
the ones who need me so much,
more than autos or watches or sox,
more than money or pride or love
I love the ones who pay this much,
the ones whose wives are discontent
with their husbands' fumbling touch,
wives who know they don't have to fuck for a buck.
I love the ones who pay to fuck,
who hesitate before they touch,
reach into their pockets, ask is it enough?
look to my face to know it's okay.
I love the ones who pay:
Ernest, Pete, Henry, Roger, Jim,
Fred, Frank, Douglas, Ronald, David, Bob
who come in the day and sit and chat
and wait for me to rise from my opposite chair
and rub their necks and pat their hands and say,
I'm so happy to see you thank you. I'm touched.
and I hope they believe me
because I need this money to buy clothes and food and furniture,
for I have been poor for much too long
and a Good Girl for just long enough.
Autobiography of a Whore: Table of Contents
