Price To Pay

She had a temperature
higher
than a church spire,
Sunday
afternoon in June.

A believer
in the way
the wind would make her
dress dance.

She blew
cigarette smoke through
her
dyed blue hair.

She kissed her
under the cold
stare
of empty eyes.

When she was sweet
sixteen
it was cold,
frightening to be
outside freezing in December
without a coat,
only her skin.

Hers was one Hell
of a soul
for sale.