there's two hookers
standing in the rain
outside the stop'n'go
looks like the work is slow
and the johns have all flown home

and they don't seem to care
they're getting wet
one's fooling with her hair
while the other slouch and stare
posing with her cigarette

        and the rain will fall upon us all
                and wash us clean of every sin
          and like holy ghosts
       we'll blow away like smoke to the wind

sometime later and the rain has stopped
the girls are nowhere now
and the store is all closed down
and the iron bar pulled across

and the steam escapes the street
drawn to the moon
like the souls of the newly freed
in a dervish choreography

    and the rain will fall . . . .