When I walk in,

men buy me drinks before I even reach the bar.

They fall in love with me after one night,

even if we never touch.

I tell you I’ve got this shit down to a science.

They sweat with my memory,

alone in cheap rooms they listen

to moans through the wall

and wonder if that’s me,

letting out a scream as the train whines by.

But I’m already two states away, lying with a boy

I let drink rain from the pulse at my throat.

No one leaves me, I’m the one that chooses.

I show up like money on the sidewalk.

Listen, baby. Those are my high heels dangling from the

    phone wire.

I’m the crow flapping down,

that’s my back slip

you catch sight of when the pain

twists into you so deep

you have to close your eyes and weep like a goddamned

    woman.

 ~ Kim Addonizio, What Is This Thing Called Love: Poems