his fingers hold onto the bottom of her spine,
warm on her shivering frame.
the other hand's doing business while she stays
quiet. she's there to be seen but not heard.
his cigarette between her lips, she breathes it in silently,
smoke brushing its way into her long hair.
his eyes watch her as he finishes
another deal over the phone. pretty girl loves him.
his hand sliding up her leg as they drive
to another house, another boy in the backseat
for the short two minutes it takes. he's
pulling out of the driveway and she's silent. doesn't ask.
and at the end of the night, smoking a last newport
outside his beat-up car, she kisses him like he wants
and there's no one there to make her quiet.
but she won't tell.