it's so ridiculous
all these men glancing at me
over the steam & the froth, over
coffee cups, through their glasses,
through their eyes so transparent.

oh! what is this?
this ridiculousness?

all my sounds, my songs;
my bones which creak, my hair which sweeps & grows,
my clothes which drag along the ground
forcing their bets, their glances.

these men who are sweet on me;
who are so sweet & sound & well-to-do
but all these men who glance
have got nothing on you.