bordello camp

The bordello camp  Morning in Aruba, the cock  has crowed three times Men get out of beds that hundreds have slept in  of other men, they are silent, waiting for taxis to take them back to their ship Sad men, there is no jubilation here, cigarette smoke A cold morning beer while waiting for the transport A seaman, overcome by the tardiness, tries to run away There is nowhere to run; the whore camp is in the desert on a desert, sand, bushes, and snakes. The madman, plied with alcohol, is sleeping. The other carried him onboard. In the courtyard, a woman swipes the dance  floor, doesn't bother to look up, when this day ends  They will be back again, or someone like them will come, here, drink, dance, and pay for sex