We All Have Stories
Kathy rides the bus
an hour each day
to reach the club
saving her pennies;
last week
the phone company
shut her off
less than a month overdue
but they keep
single mothers
on edge.
Tall and lean
and yes still lovely
dark from her
Florida sojourns
she always
has a smile
and a dance
she dances close
rubbing her pert breasts
up your chest
her pencil eraser nipples
with their silver rings
almost within
tongue range
then down
slithering, pressing
her body - naked
against your body - clothed
pulling at your shirtwaist
with her teeth
almost mouthing
your crotch.
Her story
high school champion
gymnastics
broken back - recovered
provincial diving champ
but we all have stories
two past husbands
one a cop
“never marry a cop
always angry
sometimes rough
and after
no support."
Thirteen years
working one club
or another
and never think
it isn’t work.
I’d love to answer
her smile
to give her
my shoulder
to lean on,
or at least
a ride home.
But I have
my own story,
kids and a dog
at home,
waiting to be fed.
After the dance
she takes her money
having tickled my fantasies
for another week
and wanders
through the bar
looking
for another customer.
Till seven
then on the bus
and home
to her lucky daughter.
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