Prostitute’s Smile

By Wil C. Fry, Sept. 18, 1999

Copyright © 1999 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.

I heard somebody say,
“Now this here, this is what you should do, if you were smart”
I think I missed that class, the one where they taught us not to be morons
Did you have that class? Or were you just born that way?
Not me, buddy... I just slink along, and somehow, I
Never go hungry or fall off a cliff, even though
There are those who wonder about that
And wonder they should, that I’m still here, still breathing
And that always makes me think about why...
Wouldn’t it be nice, sometimes, to be so dumb that you didn’t ask those questions?
But I do, and I have for years, and I don’t have those answers
They say that makes me philosophical, introspective, and thoughtful
I say it just makes me sad
Sad like the bitch whose litter was given away
Sad like the child who doesn’t get picked for kickball
And, yes, sad like the man who hangs himself in his jail cell
And this worries people, that I should go through life not really enjoying it
They say “you only live once.” but I’m not so sure
Maybe I’m just in a waiting room daydreaming, waiting for my real life to get handed out
Maybe we’re just the paramecium of a larger universe, and nothing we do matters
I don’t know where I’m going with this, so don’t get your hopes up
They say I sold my soul to the devil, but I know that’s not the case
If so, I would have something to show for it, like money or sex or some fun
But no...
When I went down to Lucifer’s Corner Store, he looked over my soul
Like it was a TV without a picture tube, or a gun without a firing pin
With a little laugh, he shook his head and handed it back
“There’s nothing there for me,” Lucifer said with a smirk,
“And don’t be bringing s**t like that in here no more”
And so I wandered down the street, holding onto my one true piece of property
My soul
Behind me, I heard him laughing with his demon buddies, saying,
“You wouldn’t believe what kind of crap I’ve been seeing lately, boys...
Take for instance that fellow who just left.
I’m gonna go out of business if that’s all this world has to offer.”
No, I don’t expect you to fill it up, or even to have read this far
Unless you’re empty too
Empty like the Montana sky
Empty like a wino’s bottle
Empty like the prostitute’s smile
Empty like a stadium the day after the Big Game
In that case, I pity you...
Because it feels better than pitying myself

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