and they all want to blame her mother
the alcoholic cocktail waitress
skinny with too many boyfriends
so sweet until she doesn't get her way
and the fists start flying
her raspy growl raised in a psychotic scream.
or blame the father with no face
just passing a night.
or blame the streets
full of cigarette butts and taco wrappers
where even in a small town
the sun never sets
and Those Boys will always be
in the basketball courts
and the parking lots
waiting to trace her skinny frame with sleepy eyes.
full of trashy words, animal noises
fearless and desperate
men leaning on their chevys
under the streetlights.
her?
she is their innocent
their whore.
but at least she is not them
she can't come in to their world
ever
as long as that remains true
they go to bed undisturbed
and posture in their spare time
playing liberal
assigning blame
for her.

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