Eight o' clock

Still too early for her

To appear in spray puffed

Hair that one could pull

And a face so badly rogued

 She can't be passed off

For a Moulin Rogue extra

Lipstick in fire-engine red

Lashes in overly heavy mascara

And I wish I could steal her short,

Short denim skirt that can hardly

Cover her crotch.

And the pair of fishnet stockings

That had a few snags

She has a pretty pout

While pulling a deal

With that balding man

who had a snake tattoo 

On his arm saying

He'd pay her only a thousand.

And while I'll be tempted

To have my way with someone

To be paid for only one thousand

Pesos per night isn't enough

For another roll on the hay

For a dirty pretty thing

Like me.

*Note: Months ago, I was with my aunt in a hotel. The strange thing is, the hotel we were in was a very posh establishment that was supposed to screen any people who are coming in and out of the hotel. Then again, they're not allowed to be too discriminative, right? My aunt and I were just surprised as to how  she got in, dressed  as she was. Although my aunt and I had a laugh about the whole thing, I realised something. Society isn't always gentle in treating people  decently...even those like that girl. So I wrote this poem in the point of view of "another" prostitute like her. (I am very sorry to use the very blunt term)