Nights chilly now, wool mittens lost,
coatless, an infested blanket around her shoulders,
Baby Doll prowls the sidewalks she knows like a feral cat
leading to the doors of a Salvation Army storefront
Cheerleader she once was,
she needs shampoo, tooth brush, toothpaste,
a bar of soap, a jacket of some kind, galoshes,
a backpack not stinking of stale food
Between hot meals at the soup kitchens,
the cash she earns from an occasional john,
she figures she’s worth this little bit
before the first real snow