send the girl in

whenever we were broke

which seemed quite

too often

we’d have to sell something

records

jewellery

or

renting flats hovels

I’d send the girl in

as it seemed

her poverty

was worth more than mine

these weren’t just earrings

they were heirloom gold from granny

records were originals

bought by her first love

she’d go turn on the eyes

for a better price

or

she needed a place to stay

love gone wrong

affair turned sour

where if I turned up

my poverty was my problem

or

maybe I was just too ugly

there were more beautiful

other more worthy people

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