Diane has fallen on hard times.
She’s on the street
Bumming cigarettes
And asking for change.
The men with their bottles
Are in the back alley.
Diane trades her body
For a swig of whiskey
Or a taste of speed.
She often loses her shoes
But manages to get new ones somehow
(Perhaps from the nuns
Who distribute free food).
Diane sleeps on the sidewalk
Without a blanket.
I wonder what are her dreams.
– Terry MacDonnell