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Editors' Choice in Poetry: desperation.

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Out of Body

Out of Body

By Emberlynn Pendergraft

The old men at work like my voice. It’s sweeter and lighter and younger than the other girls’. They like my hair, when I wear it in pigtails and pastel pink ribbons, and say that I remind them of their now-grown daughters. They like to tip well when their much younger wives scowl at the length of my shorts.

damn, you’re so desperate

I am selling myself for eleven an hour. Complacent, I giggle at the jokes that come at my expense, draped over the register to take their platinum cards. I pretend not to notice they lead the conversation with their dicks. I drop the act when they take their receipt, and I scowl at the length of my shorts.

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