She passed for a hooker
on the lonely road, waiting hip-handed,
painted-up, in a miniskirt and heels.
She licked her lips between cars
and pirouetted when they passed
with their smothered
honks of contempt and step-on-
the-gas hurry. In the downtown
night and old building shadows
no one noticed that dark,
dark tears blurred
mascara down her cheeks blushed
black with bruises, or
that her miniskirt was a towel
safety-pinned to her waist.