Sally's Life

Painted like a flower Breasts exposed for a stare She waits For someone To buy her a drink In her day She liked them tough Tattoos were exciting Fast cars a joy Now she prefers Thick wallets 10’s and 20’s Men short or tall Doesn’t matter at all Be discreet she implies Don’t flash 50’s ‘Cause no one likes Them here. Holding a corner booth As a place of honor She holds court Smiling At every joke Reciting lines From forgotten plays Playing her part In a bar Notorious For artists and Working class types Most of whom Hate their jobs Or haven’t sold a piece in years. No action here Another dead night She goes home Opens the bedroom window Sending a signal To a cat Who jumps the ledge Walks in For the night A stray vagabond Who Knows every open fence And quiet place To nip a meal. In the morning she Opens the window Stroking his back Whispering to him Feeling his strength Until he purrs Satisfaction And jumps To another day. She watches him Take a few tentative steps Weaving and dodging Between This and that Before vanishing In broad daylight He may return that night Or be gone for days Nothing binds him Except an open window And some food Offered by a woman Who understands his journey.