I interviewed a
sitting on a rock at the side of the road.
For little money, which isn’t hers,
she concedes the use of her body, by the hour.
You experience a moment of pleasure,
she pretends to be a satisfied lover and she looks at you indifferently:
she offers you her body and you take it, a lifeless, soul-less body.
I interviewed a woman disguised as a prostitute
you disgust her and she is afraid to touch you,
patiently she puts up with your sweat
and the vulgarity of your gestures,
she weeps without tears, she weeps and makes love.
I have interviewed a prostitute sitting on a rock, at the edge of the
She dreams, but despairs of having a child and a house one day,
a man to give her soul to.
I have interviewed a prostitute sitting on a rock
hesitatingly she stretches out her hand
and just touches my hand with her fingers
and goes away out of fear that she might dirty me.
I left a woman sitting on a stone, on the edge of the road,
she said goodbye to me with a bitter smile and as soon as I went away
she put on her prostitute clothes again.
June 2 - 2000