Angel{ina}

She stumbled out the Parrot
Holding the window for stability
The red ruched too tight shift
Barely covering her awkward frame

How different from a few years before
When she ruled the Parrot and the men
Taking them one by one to the canal bank walk
Tossing her ponytail with glee

Of course she took the uppers
Snorted white lines with lies
Pierre took care of her every need
She was loved and basked in the glow.

A year or two before this Angelina
Fresh faced and fuchsia pinked
Took a job as a trainee technician
In a Phibsboro’ beauty salon

The women there got huge tips
But Angel was just a trainee
So they looked after her and taught
Her everything they knew.

How easy to give the extras
How easy to start the slide
From fresh to ripe to rotten
Rotten to the core, through and through

As Angel stumbled last night
Near the canal, Bert watched
He saw her walk unsteadily
Where horses once had plod

Her body was found a few days later
The men from the Red Parrot bar
Described each scar, and the landlord, Bob
Identified Angel and held a wake in the pub.

A few weeks later Cherylann arrives
To be a beauty trainee in Phibsborough
Her hair is short and punked
Her fuchsia pink bag sways with her at-it-tude.

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