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 elsewhere,

Dancing naked on

The wild side

A few hours a week.

 

Stephen Nesbitt ©

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