Poetry: Beach Girl Blues by Stephen J. Golds
Beach Girl Blues
She laughed a lot.
That short, brittle kind of nervous laughter of one that has suffered constantly and needlessly.
She reminded me of a dog in a pound.
One of the beautiful ones
that have been thrown away
because the owners couldn’t love something more than they loved themselves.
We were both sick and I often wondered how all the damaged and wounded ones found me
or if it was I who found them.
When she told me she was a prostitute
I wasn’t really surprised.
I simply asked her why’d
she do that if she had a
masters degree in psychology?
She didn’t answer and I didn’t ask her anymore questions like that.
When we said our goodbyes,
if you could call it that,
she was still laughing that same laugh and
I was relieved I wouldn’t have to hear
that sad sound any more.
I do sometimes think about her and again wonder if she found the person that could
fix her, in all the ways I couldn’t or
just wouldn’t.
Love this piece, thanks!
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