Sidewalk

When I walk past those men, they demand:
why don’t you smile, you’re so beautiful!
When I walk past those men, they demand:
you dropped something, bend over!
When I walk past those men, they smack their lips at me: tutututu!
When I tell other men about these men,
they demand: take it as a compliment!

Imagine you are nothing but
blonde hair. Curves. Long legs.
A size 4. An invitation. An opening.
A thing to own. A thing to discard.

Imagine you have stage fright,
but are in the spotlight on every sidewalk.
And the audience takes your humanity
off like a trench coat,
as they clear you out like a kitchen cabinet,
until you are nothing but an empty shell
floating in the summer breeze on a sidewalk.
How flattering.