International Day to End Violence against Sex Workers: December 17th

Jorge Antonio Vallejos a.k.a. ‘Black Coffee Poet’ (Toronto, Canada)
White Van: A Poem for Sex Workers (2011)
.
White van rolls around town like PacMan, lookin’ for prey:
women to gobble up.
Ladies of the Night stand around, whether they’re hot or cold, wet or dry,
waiting for a paying guy, tools of their trade on display:
high heels, tights, low-cut tops, purse carrying rubbers to cover his cock.
.
The will to work, a hard job seen as easy, often times called sleazy
– by those who don’t know.
Hyper-masculine music getting out violent labels: Bitch, Ho;
really, they should all know: the streets are Ground Zero.
.
Working Girls vilified, seen as the enemy;
bullshit “stings” and arrests wasting peoples’ time and money.
Street-Walkers dehumanized, portrayed as there for the taking;
cabbies, cops, politicians, talking service – bullshit faking –
often times forcing Working Girls – yes, that’s called “breaking”.
.
White van rolling, patrolling…

looking for that one single Worker who’s strolling…
Tools of their shade: vehicle with a sliding door and no windows;
rope, bags, needles, coke and a shovel.
.
They avoid the girls who stand at corners like hooker Harvey’s;
who stand around in support and warmth – in a huddle.

Remote spots are the key to their sick victory;

Moss Park and St. James Cathedral
are the beginning for many acts of unforgiveable evil.
.
Bagged and shoved in the back by one man, two man, god-damn.
Drugged and driven out of town is the plan;
gang-raped in her front and in her back, cigarette burning ends the attack.
Stops of corn hide the assault, the hours of misery, the trauma for life.
The final words: I forgot the shovel.
.
Middle-age Man and his Right Hand walk back to white van;
it’s do or die, her one chance to scram.
Running, hiding, laying with the corn…
Crying on Mother Earth, bleeding on her, nails digging in her;
holding on till dawn; staying put long enough till white van is gone.
.
Thumbing her way back home to smalltown Ontario…
It’s over: this sad reality has always been a scary scenario.
Stitched, bruised, burned, scarred

– reminders of a life and job that’s always hard.
White van, two man, All Man – when the fuck we gonna change, man?!
. . .

Visit Black Coffee Poet’s site:
http://blackcoffeepoet.com/

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