She Called, Justice

She called, Justice,
My favorite prostitute
Who lives
On the shack
Just around the block
Behind the big
Church.
Her voice was
Unusually
Plain
Almost deadlike.
She was asking me
To sodomize her tonight
But that I needed
To pick her up
In front of the barber shop
Where I get my haircut
Because she has gone
Blind.
Some fucking crazy animal
Cut
My eye
While ridin me
Dogstyle, she said.
Both eye? I asked.
Both fucking eyeballs.
She sounded
Unrattled,
Unafraid whatever.
Some muscles near
My heart wringed
Out of pity?
Maybe.
That Justice, she wasn’t
Even that hot.
Some rash or allergy
Of some sort always shows
On her ass and arms
And under her left breast.
But heavens! Her tongue
Is a gift from the
Gods.
I combed my hair
One last time
And reminded myself
Not to touch that face.
Later,
Maybe I’ll just
Close
My
Eyes
And imagine of some other
Beautiful face
Other than Justice’s.

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About Pol

https://northfort.wordpress.com/ View all posts by Pol

2 responses to “She Called, Justice

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