Windows half closed, curtains pulled tight

Murmuring voices through cellophane light

Her powdered cheeks shine dimly and

Black rimmed eyes search the tiny

Velvet folds in the chairs

And between the yellow-stained sheets.

Crumpled notes and coins

Will get her another beer, perhaps

Some lace stockings to go with the lipstick

Before he comes back.

He's always coming back,

Greedy and fat, pockets bursting

With more money for more love.

The door is weak with crumbling

Paint, locks won't hold.

Anyway, he'd push through

Until he reached the heart she'd sold

Long ago. Her heavy breathing

Echoes past the thin walls

As another maid knocks out

Room service, ma'am?