Dollymop
I travelled looking for one,
or more, discovering:
in sex shops, libraries,
in stripper girls, support groups.
—Trish Salah, “Diagnostic Detour”
Watching Guys and Dolls over
Christmas with my sister it sinks in
I’m Adelaide
not Jezebel
joke not threat
but Other either way
a naked model turned clip girl
wiggling my toes for the camera
looking for solidarity
in stripper girls’ support groups.
We both take our clothes off
for money, right? And stigma
taints us all
But who am I kidding?
I mostly work in art schools
plausible deniability’s veneer
thick as varnish
my escort cred non-existent
I tried to learn the ropes by reading theory
in sex shops Libraries
that contributed to my own:
Love for Sale
Working Sex
Whores and Other Feminists
As if sex work was easy
and lucrative
As if all I needed was a website
a shoe size and a few pairs of stilettos
with six-inch heels
or more. Discovering
that the work is easy
but tedious not lucrative
full of timewasters and attention seekers
I decide I’d rather work a camera
make my money at $2.39 per clip
Even though it takes forever
would still scandalize my mother
and leaves me only a dabbler
No sense of belonging anywhere
I travelled looking for one.
Six bills
Bank-machine fresh and burning
a hole in their paper sheath
I will always be current
or former
now Poorly disguised bag of shoes
and cocktail dress I sweated through
slung over my shoulder
three guys in as many blocks
tell me I’m pretty
like the first time I fucked
for fun and woke wondering
Where did these curves come from?
I feel unsubtle
unsettled and capable
rent topped up and a day
stretched languid ahead of me
How
are we not all doing this