7/11

What is love? I don't know.
All I know is what I see.
I see a man and a woman kissing in front of the 7/11,
Sure that they're not thanking heaven for that place or anything.
They grope and they squeeze,
Not caring that the whole world seemingly is watching.
I originally think, "Get a hotel room, for Christ's sake,"
But then look at them again.
This is my parents about twenty four years ago,
Perhaps unwittingly preparing for my conception.
I think to myself how empty my life is currently,
While that couple over yonder way seems so full.
After they finished their business, I walk away,
With a mind full of racing thoughts.

Down the street is another story.
Posers line the walkway,
Men have cheesy pick up lines and salacious intents,
And prostitutes line the street, selling their "money trap"
To any fool along the way. For shame.
I see a man in a fancy suit walk up to a washed up girl
Wearing excessively revealing clothing.
She couldn't be more than 18. So sad.
He fondles her breasts, and she says, "I'm supporting three kids,"
And they walk into what I can only guess is a bordello.
God have mercy on them.
I've always known that money talks,
But love is apparently louder, and if real, free.

Oh thank heaven for 7/11.