i should have been grateful.

                   she shook her bracelet like a rattlesnake,
                            staring me down in the dirty bathroom mirror.
            in that moment, i realised she was worth more
                                         than i could ever hope to pay.

              everything was gritty and earthy and real,
        dirty-blond ringlets and cigarette smoke and ashes,
                   crumpled bills and boxed wine and poverty.
                                           -but it wasn’t depravity, i tell you.
             
                           what i could tell you is that on the car ride home,
                 i choked back tears blurring red and green lights,
                              the radio low. i kept glancing back in the rearview for police,             
                                               wondering

                       [what if i just drove off?]