On the Avenue of Nations They Stroll (Redux)

By the time the sun burns away
morning’s fog, they can be spotted
Plying their trade, their customers
by now: johns on the way
to respectable office-tower jobs
Unable to resist the charms of children
Dressed in two high too high heels
and skirts the width of belts

The prepubescent ones lean into cars
Stopped for red lights at intersections
—oh, the irony— rasp dirty invitations
Quickly, in confidential tones
as if conducting interviews

In another part of town
A mother is weeping
Visions of a daughter’s first communion
blur with back-to-school sales stickers
Decorating flyers mixed together
with the morning newspaper …
She wonder when it was
their lives became
so thoroughly ransacked.

S.E.Ingraham©