When the door shuts my world changes. I no longer have a past to contend with, only a present to bathe in. Do I become myself? I cannot say for boundaries disappear because I am no longer confined by them.
        I cross all lines. I change my color, my habits. I strut, leather skirt, fishnet stockings and fuck-me pumps. Into discos, into bars, down backstreets, back rooms and motels.
        You can't touch me, I am infallible in my desires, for just as I am so are they. The satisfaction is in my certainty, oceans breaking against cliffs. I am untouched by all my doings.
        I dance with anyone who can stand my heat, who can fuel it. My choice is to be taken. I am not a gift but stolen goods. My full value can never be paid, just the current price on the street.
        I am not beautiful, I am immaculate. When struck I do not break but ring a note so clear that the images around me shatter and I walk on, beneath my feet the grind and crush of broken glass.