Justice was a lady


I broke water wheels and stranger’s
feelings on park benches, and dining
tables, broke pockets, and seemed
overall unthreatening  and maybe even cute.
(I’m always Little India when I walk sidewalks
until they end up ending.)

All the hurt in the legends are telling a truth.
That’s the kind of face you’re looking for,
if you were watching for a face, a book to read.
(good luck on a rewatch.)

I don’t look Tamil means what
is the need to be private,
I am not looking for you.
(life is easier than focusing on my ass.)

I touch my hands together, fingertips to wrists,
and open palms again for a 15 minute metro ride
right to the schedule, this helps me remember
not to look terrified and brand new in Canada.
(you look ­like you want to say something)

last night, there were two of me, eating
scorpion pepper sauce,
and smiling to see a Ryan Gosling type
sitting across from me at the Starbucks
(he looked afraid. So do you. )

You must have 8 different ways to need death,
like a monthly pass you pay for stacking uncomfortable
girls on top of each other, arms over legs
over tits over ass, and your eyes and tongue and hands
to balance their weight and yes, I expect it will take time
for your shock  to register.

About the sudden lightness.

About the way the girls came crashing down,
scampering away, skirts pulled to knees, bra straps
readjusted, away.

About where your tongue went.
(I took it, when you were looking at me)

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