Moonlite Walk

Moonlite Walk

A full moon over the Broadmoor apartments
Tiny stars sprinkled throughout the darkness
While on the street corner
A dead house wench flashing her juicy body
Flagging down any man looking desperate
Obsequious to the money holder
Her body is but a toy of joy
for the buyer and her pimp
Invisible to everyone but herself
The barrio poet walks by lethargically 
She goes, “Hey shugah whats goin on?”
And he’s, “Nothin”
She’s all, “Nothin!, got a smoke baby?”
And he’s, “Nah, don’t smoke.”
Althewhile she’s keeping his somnambulant pace
Then she goes, “Can I please you shugah?”
He’s like, “Don’t got no money neither.”
Looking him over with contempt
Wordless she stops and waves at a passing car
The vehicle begins to coast to a stop
Like a fly drawn to excriment
She makes a lunatic dash for it
From a distance she’s all, “Hey baby…”
As the poet continues his somniferous strud
On a moonlite walk

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