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?