Head Turners

 Stilhetto heels

sharp as spikes,

stabbing the hearts of fools at the bar.

Solid red

like flowing blood,

splatting on the pavement they trot on.

Heads turn toward

the beat of her gait,

demanding attention to her hips.

But a single misstep,

a drunken side stumble

will break her perfumed neck.

Revealing shirt ripped,

exposed knees torn--

the heels survive without a scratch.

Pavement and flesh,

her lifeless eyes stare;

she pays for all her free drinks.

The heels will be sold

to an unsuspecting other.

"What a bargain" she thinks.