“There’s No Such Thing as a Child Prostitute”


Young girl walking down the boulevard 

Not yet wise enough to know the world’s agenda 

Not yet an adult but with thighs of a woman

Perverts hunting, stalking, honking, and waiting. 
She wore a white summer dress with dainty wild flowers printed in clusters 

Just barely ripe with with the blush of woman’s blood. 

Her hairs tingle and ears perk as she Catches the glint in the eyes of the white haired wolf


And she darts for the mechanics shop

And walks in trembling. 

The Wolf laughs, “Oh I was just looking to have a little fun.” Smug as he drives off in his old white sports car forgetting everything but those legs. 
Little Lolita left standing in the middle of a shop with greasy men staring at her quivering pout and watery eyes. 

 She slowly turns to walk away feeling foolish 

A little less innocent 

Remembering those eyes every time she undresses for lovers. 


When grandma passed away,

I wrote her a poem because it’s the only way I could communicate with her. 

It was a silly childish poem, but I remember thanking her because up until her death I was afraid of it. 

She used to ask me to come into her room and would show me a box she wanted me to take out from her closet when she died. 

That was 25 years before she actually passed. 

So I wrote to her because I didn’t know where to find the box anymore. 

I always wondered what was in that box. 

I went to the beach to burn the poem so I could send it up to her, but it was so windy I couldn’t  get the paper to ignite. 

Three guys were sitting around their own blazing bonfire and I asked them if I could burn a poem I wrote for grandma who had just passed. 

They asked me to read it to them. 

That must have been the most intimate moment I’ve ever had with three men at one time. 

I lit a cigarette and walked away alone to have a beer by myself. 

That was a night of many firsts. 


  I used to hate getting baths from my grandma. 

Korean baths were scalding hot and once you were tenderized, she would scrub you with a sand paper glove until all the dirt from your skin was lifted and left a ring around the tub. 

I would stretch my legs to the edges of the tub anytime she tried to give me a bath refusing to touch the hot water. 
But there was this one time the neighbor asked my brother and I if we wanted to play a game. 

He asked my brother to keep a look out for anyone because he would play the guard. 

Then behind the wall, I pulled down my pants and he said crazy things. 

That evening I came to my grandma and asked for a bath. 
I never cried once.