Payment

He enters her
bedroom,
whistling a catchy tune;
the scent of cheap sex and wine
still drunk in the air
from the earlier men
she's swallowed.

A full frontal fuck for every dime
he's had the pleasure of spending
his time with,
instead of listening
to a song from the old jukebox
at the back of the bar.

She's hard;
killed a man with a switchblade once
for trying to lick her ass.

It tickled and she hated to laugh;
her father used to laugh
when he'd hit her mother.

So she lays there with her lips
ready to suck, or feel the fuck
paying for the empty bottles on the floor;
it's not long
until he cums,
back to drinking what's left
of the cocks knocking at the door.

He pulls out
from inside her warm flesh,
afraid of what lies
in the cold of loneliness;
searching for a song and cigarette.