The Things We Do For Money
I once met a guy at a party. Fine bloke and we chatted each other up.
I once met a guy at a party.
Fine bloke and we chatted each other up.
Turns out
he stands six hours a day
in his underwear
in a department store window.
A human mannequin.
I asked him, “why?”
Expecting to hear
his deep thoughts about
performance art, life, purpose
but got back a curt
“For the money.”
I was disappointed.
He was like all the rest of us.
A prostitute.
But an honest one.