After I’d heard the word prostitute for the first time as a kid when someone had called Mom and Aunt Clover that very word, I decided I would be like the Greeks, the Aztecs, the civilizations before me, who had believed in gods possessing powers we humans crave. Prostitute. She would be a god with nine arms. An odd number that she swung back and forth with the pendulum of time. Prostitute. She would have nine hands, but only eight thumbs. Prostitute. Her hair blowing in the wind as she outruns all those who chase her. Prostitute.
