Jitterbug

           And she cries, big salty
          alligator tears running through
          the cracks around her eyes
          and down her cheeks, pooling
          just before dripping off her
          pock-marked chin.

And she cries, nervous fingers
scratching at her neck,
collarbone, elbows, feet,
needle holes marching like
footprints down her
skeletal forearms.

          And she cries, eyebrows raising
          as he reaches for his pocket,
          rehearsed words about daughters
          and new starts on the lips
          of her mouth used for begging,
          and for other things, for her money.

And she cries, pupils scanning
across the street, down
the alley, eyes out but
mouth tumbling praises
and gratitude for one
more chance at the day.