When There Is An Opportunity...

The whining of the woman next door, secured, The wandering eyes of them in the cleared jungle, The alcohol infused fire in their lower stomachs, They are everywhere on these streets, with aches, The pain of love that they have lacked, The touch of affection that their skin needed, A little bit of hormones to balance their mood, I notice these vulnerable women through my eagled eyes Instead of calling them sister and daughter to induce the true love, I try to touch their shoulder, so I can reach their breasts.