The Oldest Profession

18

The oldest profession

is open to me

whose long, straight legs

sparkle like downtown towers!

My lips are glossy

like a polished apple!

My shoes were built

by Frank Lloyd Wright!

In the pool of my ornate, gold, oval mirror

I tease my blonde hair

and practice my languorous pout 

before I smooch myself goodbye

and stride out into the blinking, colorful night!

I am my own dress up doll!

I am coated in a sticky film

that I cannot wash off

It makes me twitchy

as I twirl around the post,

in the skin-colored light of a street lamp

on the sidewalk

of a boulevard

beside the screaming honks

of traffic.