I realized when I wrote the above that I was really starting to write my own poem instead of trying to help Chuck write his. His graphic has been haunting me so, with apologies to the real poets including Chuck, this is the result: They once called her Baby Ho Those men who took her childhood. They paid her with money, drugs; Proud of buying off her youth, Never mind her eyes grew old; Relishing her sweet, soft heat, Never mind her heart turned stone. "What else is the girl good for?" They could justify themselves. "It's a victimless venture, Just a way for her to make Easy bucks in her spare time. Were as easy as they come. Slamming her against the bricks. Its all she really deserved. They treated her to bruises From her mouth down to her soul. Between tricks, she cleans herself; Weary, sinks into despair. The street lamp glow blocks the stars; Hopes shattered by honking cars. She's ready for the next one No ones baby anymore. I by no means think it is better than Chuck's....it's just my emotional response to the graphic and has, really, nothing to do with anything else and can be safely ignored.