womanthatrolls
Bluelighter
I walk alone
Each step deliberately placed
So as to keep the requisite distance
From everyone around me
Conscious of
Everything
My hair flying, curls in my eyes
Up in the air
I try to think of it as a wind-blown effect
Like a model with the fan making hair
Stream behind her
the image fails
as I know my hair is violent
in this flurry
I imagine all eyes are on me
The two men sitting
With their polo shirts and mirror glasses
Are checking me out while casually
Continuing their conversation
The young girls
In skinny tank tops, tight pants and dark make-up
Are giving me menacing glances
I try to think of my aloneness
As a cool i-am-above sort of alone
Like a bohemian, curly-haired, well-dressed
Interesting, soulful-looking kind of alone
I make believe I am intriguing
The employee at ben and jerrys pauses mid-scoop
To watch me walk past
The two boys with skulls on their shirts
And ugly hair grimace at me
Meanwhile I keep on walking blithely by
Eyes straight ahead
Resolutely and scrupulously avoiding accidental eye contact
Because the other day, while driving
I was at a red, and ended up locked
In contact with this man crossing the street
In front of my car
Our eyes connected and I felt horns blaring, heart pounding,
Smile blooming
And then he looked away
Deliberately averted his eyes
And that simple harsh denial of contact
That instant minute rejection
Left me trembling for hours
Left me inadequate and unloved
So now I refuse to become locked in anyone’s
Eyes for fear of being brutally released
In the music store
I look up from my examination of a cd’s contents
To find myself being leisurely appreciated by
A pair of roving eyes belonging to a guy
Lounging against a stack
And instead of feeling flattered, I show no
Recognition and slowly but firmly keep on
Walking
While in line to buy music
I see two men facing me in the corner and
Whispering and indicating in my direction
Convinced they are talking about me
I stare determinedly ahead
Not giving in to my curiosity by passing by them
When I leave
Rather I take another exit
I blast mellow music as I leave the parking lot
And wonder to whom I am declaring myself
In the bookstore, lack of recognition
Of myself as a woman
By the cute guy working at the counter
Devastates me
And I return home from my day’s journey
Shaken and rattled by my accidental contact
With the world
And curl up in a fetal ball
In my room
In my bed
All alone
And feeling it acutely.
Each step deliberately placed
So as to keep the requisite distance
From everyone around me
Conscious of
Everything
My hair flying, curls in my eyes
Up in the air
I try to think of it as a wind-blown effect
Like a model with the fan making hair
Stream behind her
the image fails
as I know my hair is violent
in this flurry
I imagine all eyes are on me
The two men sitting
With their polo shirts and mirror glasses
Are checking me out while casually
Continuing their conversation
The young girls
In skinny tank tops, tight pants and dark make-up
Are giving me menacing glances
I try to think of my aloneness
As a cool i-am-above sort of alone
Like a bohemian, curly-haired, well-dressed
Interesting, soulful-looking kind of alone
I make believe I am intriguing
The employee at ben and jerrys pauses mid-scoop
To watch me walk past
The two boys with skulls on their shirts
And ugly hair grimace at me
Meanwhile I keep on walking blithely by
Eyes straight ahead
Resolutely and scrupulously avoiding accidental eye contact
Because the other day, while driving
I was at a red, and ended up locked
In contact with this man crossing the street
In front of my car
Our eyes connected and I felt horns blaring, heart pounding,
Smile blooming
And then he looked away
Deliberately averted his eyes
And that simple harsh denial of contact
That instant minute rejection
Left me trembling for hours
Left me inadequate and unloved
So now I refuse to become locked in anyone’s
Eyes for fear of being brutally released
In the music store
I look up from my examination of a cd’s contents
To find myself being leisurely appreciated by
A pair of roving eyes belonging to a guy
Lounging against a stack
And instead of feeling flattered, I show no
Recognition and slowly but firmly keep on
Walking
While in line to buy music
I see two men facing me in the corner and
Whispering and indicating in my direction
Convinced they are talking about me
I stare determinedly ahead
Not giving in to my curiosity by passing by them
When I leave
Rather I take another exit
I blast mellow music as I leave the parking lot
And wonder to whom I am declaring myself
In the bookstore, lack of recognition
Of myself as a woman
By the cute guy working at the counter
Devastates me
And I return home from my day’s journey
Shaken and rattled by my accidental contact
With the world
And curl up in a fetal ball
In my room
In my bed
All alone
And feeling it acutely.
