Street Network

	She works the stretch of sidewalk
	Where the town turns seedy,

	In her leopard-skin leggings,
	Can pick a wallet clean with one hand.

	She is a queen of the street glow.
	Holds a drunken gaze with eyes
 
	Set to poke holes in the flesh,
	Read one's blood type, drain plasma.

	The glimpse of a fifty-dollar greenback
	Can set her pulse surging.  Cruising

	Automobiles no longer make sound.
	Scum in the alley-way evaporates

	As she begins to cling, clutch
	Like sharp bramble to a passing shirt sleeve.

	She is a predatory shadow chaser,
	Leaning her slender back

	Against an oily brick wall,
	Chin raised to catch the down-wind

	Scent of prey.  Glazed-eye wanderers
	Fall every time.  Then all at once,

	With the twist of a boot heel
	She is clicking down a side-street,

	A lucky two-dollar bill
	Buried deep in a black jacket crease.


                 
     

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