Pairs Of Eyes

walking through downtown, uptown,
Small town,
I always feel
Watched.
I always sense
ten or more pairs of eyes (brown and blue and all shades of lust)
following me,
when I walk down the street
Men.
Boys.
whatever you want to call them
sometimes making obscene faces, sometimes
yelling incomprehensible phrases
But always watching, just
Watching
like a butcher watches newly roasted pigs
coming hot off the rack
“Mmm…so beautiful, perfect for making fine
hams, bacons, or even quite fine of a girl.”
like a small child at the candy shop, eyeing
the vast array of sweets and pastries
“Ooo I want this one and that one and
oh would you look at the legs on her.”
Men.
Boys.
testosterone-filled and lookin’ for a piece o’ woman
their eyes never done
Roaming,
Measuring.
Enjoying
ev’ry girl who passes by

sometimes I wish I lived on
Deserted,
Unknown,
Un-male,
dusty country roads.
where I could walk somewhere, anywhere,
everywhere.
and only the chattering squirrels in the tall pine trees
and the flip-flapping birds in the wide open sky
would Watch.

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Comments (1)

Nice poem. To be invisible would be lovely sometimes.