i walk past you, to the subway. you sit in front of the bodega--all of you, all men. where are you wives, mothers, daughters? your hips swagger as your jeans cling to worn leather belts, and i can smell the stench of sweat/cigarettes/scuzz were i to approach you. but i never do.
i walk, straight. ipod often on ears, cell phone on ears, or the standard, new york straight ahead fuck you i'm in my own world leave me alone.
still, you attempt to engage me.
all of you. whistles at me, comments on my clothing, those eyes. those eyes. i feel them crawling up my legs, to my ass, to my chest, to my furry coat...to the friends i walk with, hands i clutch or faces i kiss..you are there, staring. when i'm on the phone with my father, or worse, my grandmother, i hear your voices, lewd and leery, and i want to smack you.
i want my grandmother to smack you: "how dare you talk fresh to my granddaughter."
every day, you stare at me. i've lived here for 3 1/2 years--i'm not a new fixture. i'm not into flirting with old men. i'm not into flirting with random gross men on the street. (maybe if you were cute, my age, had a witty comment about the cat i was walking or the inga muscio book i was carrying...)
but please, leave me alone. i don't want you in my life. i don't want you looking at me, talking to me. you make me feel dirty, gross.
you see me every day, and still you stare. i see you seeing me every day, and averting my eyes does no good. i hate it and i hate you more and more every day.
you see me every day.