The Real Thing

I slam the car door, glance up, and see her, Standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Mickey Mouse waves at me from her yellow t-shirt, ripped jean shorts barely cover her ass. Closer to God in those heels, but just pushing five feet. She’s got one hand on her hip, a baby on the other. I pause, my heart full of admiration. A cigarette hangs from her brightly painted mouth. She takes a calculated drag and exhales slowly. The sun beats down on us. Scorching. It’s driving the men mad. Her copper and gold curls catch the light and for a moment she looks at me. One brown eye, one blue. I nod in greeting. Her head turns back and her lips form a familiar, unimpressed sneer. She clenches her jaw and I grin, knowing what comes next. "Yo tengo mi nena, tener respecto."