Reflections of a Very Young Girl

Reflections of a Very Young Girl

The sunset is always more soothing for those who look forward to the night
But I didn’t
I knew what night would bring
And I shivered
Shivered in a balmy 75 degree night
Knowing

It was the knowing that made it worse
Knowing that it was time to work
To “put up or shut up” as he said
My pimp
He was real smart
Or so he told himself
Smart enough to “make this money”
I always thought he was smart enough not to get fucked
And let the others fuck for him

That’s the kind of intelligence I wish I had
But I don’t
I dropped out of school at twelve
When the bruises my mom inflicted became too much to hide
But the social workers were too busy with other cases to take mine
Maybe I wasn’t morose enough
I was always a happy child
Maybe our neighborhood was too scary for some fully educated college grad to stop in
Or maybe I was like every other girl in the hood
A commodity made more valuable by the scar
“Good girls aren’t worth shit.”
He was right
But I wasn’t one of them
My mom taught me that

No I was something else
Right now I was someone who had to “make this money”
I hated hearing him say that
Mostly because I knew he was right
I had to support myself
And if I didn’t work, I didn’t eat
But worse if I didn’t work
I didn’t eat and I’d get beaten
Those two things didn’t go together
Have you ever been kicked in an empty stomach
I have

I needed a drink
That’s one thing that my pimp, used to be my boyfriend, always had
“For the nerves”
You’d think I would have been out here long enough
You know, to not have nerves
To not feel
To not need the anesthetic
To be able to get on my knees
Or lift my skirt
Or to kiss amorously
A stranger
A paying customer
But I did
I still needed the pain killer
The pain both mental and physical would leave me
If I had a drink
Well, not one
Many
“Just don’t be sloppy, bitch.”

I could hold my liquor
Enough to remember how to get most men off quickly
Quick was a necessity
You didn’t want to be with a trick all night
One
It didn’t make money
And if it didn’t make money it didn’t make sense
Two
A young impressionable girl might get it into her head that she’s special
I’d done that before
Two years ago on my fifteenth birthday
I’d thought I was special (briefly)
That one of my regulars might really care
That he might take me away from here
Like Julia Roberts’ character

What a dumb ass movie
It’d been my favorite
But I was a “dumb ass bitch”
See, my pimp agrees
And he knows me
He’d been sniffing around before I was a teen
He was a regular part of my community
A predator
Wiser, older
He was a real man
He even had a “real woman” and a good job
I had this

But I guess he kept his promises
Said he’d take me away from a broken home
And he had
Said he’d take care of me
And he was
I mean as long as I did my part
We were a team
Said he’d always love me
And he does
He spends more time on me than any of his other girls
So I know he loves me
And one day he’ll take me away from even this
I feel it
I know it
He told me so

But right now I’ve got to make him proud
Got to make him happy
Got to find someone who
“Wanna date?”

Educate Yourself: see the movie “Very Young Girls, a documentary of prostitution in New York.