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The closed in spaces are the worst.
Elevator doors slide shut
and it's just you and the bald man
with the up and down glances that peel you
like ripe fruit, the soft feral growl
that bounces off the steel walls, and
you, poured into your eggshell flesh,
try not to get caught watching:
Is he about to make a move?
Is the call button within reach?
Counting the seconds backward from a hundred:
Next time don't wear the skirt so skinny.
Keep the slit below the knee or not at all.
Check alleys and nightfalls and keep on walking.
Pretend the whistles at construction sites
are not for you and keep on walking.
Don't bat an eye at the man on the bus,
hands fiddling with something in his lap.
Make sure the other passengers can see.
Get up and keep on walking.
Remember never to count on the good will of strangers
Remember 1974, that blithe spring break Florida hitch hike
from Hell and keep on walking.
Remember to keep your hungers mummy-wrapped
or bottled in formaldehyde: hope that no one notices.
Do you think victims are in vogue this year?
It doesn't matter. The doors slide open.
This time you get off with a mental strip search
and a warning: keep on walking,
keep on walking.
- Nina Corwin
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