Even Hookers Grow Old

I was killing time, just walking without aim,
When I stepped into a bar, to get out of the rain.
It was a smoky, stuffy dive, like the hundreds I’d been to
It was a haven for the losers, who had nothing else to do.
I slowly looked around, and saw her sitting at the bar,
She seemed a lonely, empty soul, a set of wheels without the car.
I could see the scars of winter, etched in each and every line
Of the wrinkles upon her face, that were buried there by time.
I realized, that despite their being so brash and bold,
Underneath their fancy paint and all, even hookers grow old.

She’d had her share of bad times, I could see it in her eyes,
Hello’s would be mechanical, she’d be immune to goodbyes.
Her clothes were worn and frayed, scuffed shoes upon the rails,
The only thing that looked quite new, was the polish on her nails.
For sure, she was old and tired, but I knew she’d seen them all,
All the luckies and the losers, in some cold room down the hall.
Beauty long since faded, though her blue eyes still quite bright,
But I knew she would settle for anyone that night.
It was a sad fact, after the winds of life had blown,
The truth and reality was that even hookers grow old.

The nights when she could pick and choose, had surely been and gone,
But the thought of fleeting love, in her eyes still clearly shone.
She sipped her drink real slowly, leaving lipstick on the glass,
And I knew that she was wondering, if I would make a pass.
My glass was halfway empty, so I signalled for a brew,
It wasn’t in me to be rude, so I offered her one too.
She took this as an invitation, and was instantly my friend,
She rambled on about her life, in the good days without end.
I felt a little pity, her life seemed hollow and cold,
I wondered if she realized that even hookers grow old.

I hardly spoke a word to her, just nodded here and there,
In me she’d found a friend it seemed, and talked on without care.
Suddenly she stopped, then put her hand on top of mine;
She said when I was ready, she’d give me a real good time.
I said I wasn’t looking, she said, “Mister, I’m no louse,
You needn’t pay the piper friend, this one is on the house.”
The fear of rejection, was so very plain to see,
Her eyes were almost begging, as they stared right back at me.
I knew if I refused her, it would surely break her soul,
With her ego dancing on the stage, I was forced to play  a role.


We left the bar together, she held on to my hand;
It felt a little awkward, a weird one-night stand.
The night was cold and wet, it was raining still;
I was walking with a stranger, half against my will.
We spent the night together, her bed was warm and dry,
And I even felt remorse, in the dawn, as I said goodbye.
The morning chill was welcome, once more I felt like me,
In a funny sort of way, I thought, I’d paid a debt to society.
I recalled the ancient adage, that sometimes old is gold,
But I wondered if she even cared, that hookers do grow old.