Street lights drill holes through your dress as commuters on night buses peep to catch an eyeful of exposed skin then pass on with indifference An acquired sense of shame keeps you in by-lanes from where you watch the world goes by Those who solicit your favour amid the stench of piss and pheromones abandon you before daybreak Society stamps you a prostitute researchers label you contagion cops call you a criminal but you are destitute and miserable Nobody knows your sorrow none hears your yell for normalcy from pillar to post you run like a mad woman, fatherless children at your breast The prophet who spoke of the first stone may not be there in the crowd Meanwhile you swallow the insults and entice another client with a smile