my hands appeared smaller today,
could've been the florescent light of the graffiti-mean-streaked bathroom on the third floor, coulda just been.
in there i like to narrow my eyes at the girl in the glass - the one who wears too much make-up sometimes, sometimes not enough.
i do a little tap dance on those dirty tiles
breaking backs right and left.
the dangers of the bathroom stall creep in on mama's lips
don't sit down
don't forget to check above
someone's sneakin peaks through the cracks
watching from the vent.
alone alone alone
sigh it out girl
smash your fist at the bitch
in the glass
splash your face with cold calm
to bring you down baby
sometimes it's like that
i go a couple o rounds with myself
one on one, ya know?
then i walk down loaded streets
gun in my mouth
gunnin my teeth
i rattle with the change in my pocket
two nickles and a penny to be exact
clankin my way down 45th
falling off the curb cuz it's 2am
and i can
so why don'tcha just give me your smile
and hightail it home boy,
get outta my face, outta my skirt
cuz i don't need your sales pitch
or your arm around me -
no, i'm chargin pavement home, honey
you go your way
i'll find mine.
© Gillian Wickwire
Gillian Wickwire is an instructor of Women's Studies 101 at San Diego State University where she is currently completing her M.A. in Women's Studies. She is a feminist activist, poet, and spoken-word artist.
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