Saturday, November 9, 2013


I don’t know you,
but I know your kind...

You stare...
You grab...
You drool...

You couldn’t talk to a lady
if your life depended on it- 
alleged man.

You view us as objects,
especially if we wheel instead of walk.

You ran
into my friend
on the subway yesterday
and  her description:

"{He’s} idly standing by me,
stroking my transfer handle?”

sent ice down my spine
and made me wish she’d run over your foot
and blamed her spasms.

Today, one of your betters
held the door so I exit the bookstore
with a cheerful “Be well.”

exhaled the breath
I hadn’t realized
my psyche's was holding
and reminded myself-

“Y chromosomes aren’t the reason why.”

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