Like A Dog Chasing Cars

She was in her mid-twenties,
two kids with different dads,
and smelt like an unplugged
fridge.

Her first sperm donor killed
an infant while drunk driving.

Her second got caught fingering
a sleeping pre-teen and fled before
anyone could boot his teeth
through his lips.

On summer evenings,
we flocked like sheep
without a Border Collie.

We drank cheap booze
around a small garden bonfire
made of household rubbish.

And as the flames quivered,
she would say, All men are shit. All of ‘em.
Don’t need ‘em. Never did. ‘Specially since
I got me eight-inch dildo waitin’ at home.

And we would all laugh.
And drink more cheap wine.
And someone would toss something
onto the fire. And we would watch it burn
away into nothingness like so many nights.

The following summer,
we found ourselves back
around the same fires.

But now she had a new man,
she would say, He’s the best. I deserve it.
He works. He cooks. He takes us places
on the weekends. He loves ‘em kids
like they were his own. I always knew
a good one would come along.

And our nights passed
without significance
until a coke dealer
from down south
came sniffing around.

He scratched his crotch
by the fire and said,
Fuckin’ caught somethin’
from a girl who pays
with her pussy.

And the hours filled
with his spurious stories
before he slipped her
a tiny white wrap.

And she thanked him
by sucking his scabby cock,
in sight of everyone,
while her new man
and kids slept
in a house across the road.