Trina didn't think of herself as a working girl
A working woman
Not a girl
What she did was real work
Every morning she dutifully cleansed herself
Scrubbing away the night's indiscretions
With soap
And a scouring pad
She looked in the mirror
Intensely
And honestly told herself
That today was the day
The last day
That she would ever sell herself
To buy what it took to make her life bearable
And every night
She found herself
In the middle of negotiations
With strangers
Wanting to purchase
Intimacy
For a half hour
Or less
Because the thought of being without
What made her life bearable
Was unbearable
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