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Strippers
Some time ago
I was interviewing
Strippers,
How was I to know
They were managed
By a biker gang,
Sometimes carefree
Poets play where
Macho wannabes are
Scared to show,
It all went well
Until an unscheduled
Meeting with a burly
Psychopath,
I still have the pocket
Recorder in a drawer
Somewhere,
As for disc, well ...
Many of the ladies
Were lost souls
Running, hiding
From whatever
In drugged, numbed,
Female bodies,
Not much different from
The general population
I suppose,
Some were beautiful
Free
spirits
Earning more coin
Than they could
Dancing naked on
The wild side
A few hours a week.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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