I know what you see because I feel her,
a phantom girl ****** in my silhouette.
Your head turns, eyes heavy, body hunching,
hips swaggered, lips sloppy, hands hungry. I’m
like money, or the public restroom stall
some kid carves his initials into, in
ownership. A proclamation, a
permanent I was here. Is that how you’ll
make your mark on the world, through my body?
“Hey little lady, hey ****.” I roll
my eyes and keep walking, hot with an urge
to shatter that girl you mistake me for.
For a moment, let me fantasize: an
elbow to the nose, knee to the *****,
body hook, spinning back fist. I see you
gasping on the sidewalk, your leer gummed up,
******, and the vision of such violence
thrills me.