Prostitute

I am the sign on the corner

that says "open"

in red, warm letters,

my thighs are sore

from last night's paycheck

when someone came inside me

and used me

like a credit card

Copyright (C) 2009 Sara LeMaster

shopping mall

You can't find your place here;

its too easy to get lost

among the forest

of roads,

cars passing by

filled with people,

a river of life dries up

as industry sets in,

making way

for fields of

shopping districts

and excuses

for unhappiness;

the rearview mirror

is clouded with smoke,

ghosts

of a past never defined

by our history books,

but lived

by the brave

who live longer than their stories,

casting themselves

to the wind,

not losing their place,

but solid,

immovable as sand.

Copyright (C) 2009 Sara LeMaster