Sex and Murder Magazine

By Joseph M. Gant

Something strikes romantic in a truck stop troll
For pussy, dope, the night crawl stroll into that other --
The goin' in the 2 a.m. hours of the morn.’ Diesel
Pump perfume trails lead me to my hand picked ladies --
Prices never change (forty straight up, sixty half and half),
No internet escorts, craigslist scams - trannies love to mug
You ‘till you learn to love it too. You just pull in slow
Between two trailers, flick the lights off and on and pray:
no dick.
Lucking out, take home twenty minutes worth of woman
Names like Valentine, Afroditey, Joy parade; you try to hold
Your face straight, count your cash beneath the wheel
So she can’t see what you can’t pay -- look her over (just a glance)
For new sores, fresh tracks . . . fuck it, ya say to save your eyes --
Pick the dish and pay your bill. Tomorrow -- you tell yourself driving
Her back, broke and spun -- tomorrow gonna get me some Joy.