The beginning of a poem:
The first lesson about picking up a trick
is to remember everyone is a terrorist.
They carry strapped to their body herpes
or that STD with a pretty flower name,
or HIV, or else depression or diabetes.
They are not mules; they know what they carry,
but still yearn to breed death. Terrorists,
in short. I should add here, "like you and me,"
but that is not how I think of them, not
like you, love, and certainly not like me.
What I say applies only to big cities, of course.
In a small town, everyone knows everyone,
and so when you marry Cousin Dick, you
know what you are getting. The risks
are incalculable when you go tricking.