The Girl, Kathleen Denizard, [2023:41]

Lips like satin and eyes like glass
Truant and needy
The girl walked in jeans and high boots
Rounding the pier to find some relief
A man stepped close, dropping the stub of a cigarette
A cough forcing smoke through his teeth like jet plume
With the grin of a Cheshire smile, she lured him,
Flirting and shaking like a chorus dancer
Until the man with his tattooed fingers, tired of her play,
Emptied his hand in hers
The boardwalk felt cold, the cover of a crowd less protective
So she turned to the alley where the sailors meet,
Stalking and waiting outside the bar, but not going in
For the girl was twelve years old

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