The Night
She keeps her shame under a pillow
Her honour tied up with stabbing sheets
The motel neon light burns brightly
Another man, another night
Desperate hours, drunken by time
Cheap booze
Burning cigarettes
Addicted to drugs
How else does a girl make money, but at night?
A motel clerk doesn't raise his eyes
Doesn't see the ball and chain, the needle marked veins
Room 9 has thick walls
No one to hear the moans mixed with tears
One night it's a preacher man
Another night the mayor's son
Some nights it's high school graduate boys, two and three at a time
By morning it's her rising
Thin toast and a sweet orange,
Fake names
Fake moans
Torpor veins awash her glassy eyes
Twenty more dollars and a lonesome walk into town,
By night another pillow will bury her shame
A cheap motel will be her home
But no mayor's son will know the dream buried with the shame