they work in the strip clubs and delis
where men slaver over meat
and they entice them in with a smile
with a smirk and lips turned red
with a shake of their hips and their head

when they walk the night, they’re not afraid
they’re the scariest thing around
high heels on cobble stones
collar pulled up against the cold
they collect the cat-callers like gold

the girls ask where they get their lipstick
and they laugh and say
a boy but the joke is lost
canines press against a blood-red tongue
life is short but boy, is it long

boys press girls against dark alleyways
thinking they’re the predator of the night
but these undead girls make sure those girls get home
they let them go with a smile and a peck
while they press their fangs into little boys’ necks