I am already having trouble with this poem-a-day.
I’m slogging through it
Because I want to be impressive
Want to be one of those people who own convictions
A New Years Resolution, perhaps
Aside from learn to do more than one push-up at a time
And get better at side-stepping unwanted flirtation from old men (and young men
Who look like the type who will follow up by sending nail clippings in the mail to you
Until you threaten a restraining order)
True story.
Example: Today I had to leave the coffee shop where I was working
(“working”)
Because this man with his friend kept tapping me on the shoulder
And asking my breasts what time it was—
—and then if he knew me from that holiday party where I was wearing (or not wearing, I should say, right, Joe, amiright? Ha, amiright?)
That Costume.
He was about fifty, and I kept looking pointedly at my backpack on the ground
Between my feet
But he didn’t get it.
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