I stared at you long enough to let our eyes meet <br />and wondered at your heels on that icy street. <br />Wondered at services you had already rendered, <br />either for gain or gratuitously tendered. <br /> <br />Wondered if your payscale is based on fantasy and fetishes <br />or is it simply a spreadsheet of hourly wishes. <br />And as I almost bent down, my first stone to pick, <br />I got a call from a client who makes me quite sick. <br /> <br />Then I started to remember times when I dressed to please; <br />and even more times when I laughed with too much ease. <br />As I started to tally my payscale and score, <br />I had to humbly admit that you're probably worth more. <br /> <br />Slowly, but surely, I started to realize <br />that, quite often indeed, I serve those that I despise. <br />If to prostitute is to put to base use for gain, <br />then I, amongst most, should be first to earn disdain.<br /><br />Roshni D'Souza<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-apology-to-the-prostitute/
