I lie on the table 

In my tank top and sweater 

Stomach exposed in the 

Late spring heat 

And the wrinkled tobacco spitter  

Picks me up with his eyes 

I can see him 

Throwing me into his car 

Throwing me into his 

shitty one room apartment

Performing the reason 

Why my mom has anxiety 

The reason she asks me to return my shorts

 

And then I’m a doll

A toy 

On display 

For your rigid knuckles and 

Unwarranted stares

Your unkissed licked lips

Your biogted breath 

 

Do you feel better now?