deepundergroundpoetry.com
Being Observed In Lesser Than
The daily routine of others
never seems the way for her;
when traffic mills in gridlocked streets
with lines of yellow at a standstill.
Where a pedestrian believes
she’ll make better time,
until the subway entrance;
that disgorges commuters
up and out into the light of day.
Some racing for buses that slow
as people break away from the curb
and push frantically between,
to dodge and sprint
to the other side of the street.
In the midst of it all, distancing,
she forfeits subway catacombs
where the males of arctic bears snarl,
The vision of her flight from their grind
at a glance, reflects an invitation
she is not entirely unconscious of.
But still she blindly proceeds
from the discourse she finds
more urban than primitive.
The seams of her nylons run afoul.
The structure of her foundation
garment infuriates,
and the high heels of her shoes
become acts against nature.
She’s being observed in lesser than
her suit of woolen armor.
Even less than the satin halfslip
giving up the ghost in mid-swoon.
And it too, like she, slides inches
as if to wave a white flag
of imperfect contrition.
But instead, becomes the unfurling
of a matador’s cape in the ring
which has her think in conclusion,
of everything symbolic
a ring represents to a woman:
the chase, the capture,
the bond, bondage and divorce.
And the men watching,
being only what they are,
snort and score their hooves
across the hard ground,
holding back their rage
until they huddle, when to crash
the confines, to bellow their intent.
And a cabbie with his
hastily embarking customer,
resets the meter, to make their way
through Central Park, heading for
the Museum of Natural History,
where displays of taxidermy
and bones will grow eyes for her.
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