"He sucks a mean dick,"
Says the bleach-blonde woman
Hands on her hips, leaning suggestively
Against the splintering wood of the doorframe.
Fake red nails cut into the boy's palm.
He looks up at the ceiling.
The man in the room rolls his head to the side
As if to stretch his neck,
The boy bites his lip.
The water stain on the ceiling is shaped like a duck.
"You have a pretty face,"
Says the man, and leads the boy inside.
The carpet is blue with specks
Old, and worn
And there are ants in the corner of the kitchen,
Swarming around a biscuit.
The boy tries to count them as the man sits him down.
Once the boy feels the hands he drifts away.
On the subway ride home
The woman crosses her legs and leans forward
So her breasts push together,
And winks at the passengers across from her.
"Rest up," she says to the boy beside her,
"Tomorrow is another day of work."
And one day we will die
And our ashes will fly
From the aeroplane over the sea
But for now we are young
Let us lay in the sun
And count every beautiful thing we can see
Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea