West End Sex Workers Memorial
In the back lane
off Davie Street
I light a cigarette
No smoking
indoors anymore
Fishnets & tall boots
I like what I think
they’re thinking
the passers-by
Inhaling flashes
of cities & of nights
street corners & strolls
of excitement & anticipation
of men in cars
of money coming money going
of waiting around & smoking
Truly I don’t know what
they’re thinking
Times have changed
I’m older now
Not as skinny
dope skinny, it’s true
Then, I wore crop tops & tight tights
so they could see what I had
cuz I knew what they wanted
the chasers, the johns
Taunts
being spat at
bad dates
getting ripped off
roughed up & beaten up
I remember too
But we rode the night
trannys on the tranny stroll
shit talkers & straight shooters
rivals & thieves
spotters & seraphims
companions & lovers
cocaine & courage
heroin & bareback
We rode the night until
the genocide of indifference
& conniving knives of hatred
disappeared us all
Here in the back lane
just a block from the newly erected
West End Sex Workers Memorial
a tall pillar
a lighted crimson beacon
a bronze plaque
Finally this for us
a red-light tomb
A car slows
my breath sharpens
I wonder
& light another cigarette