Observers

Look up.

 

Aquarius shrugs

empties his urn of stars.

 

Take in the dark.

 

The moon, air in his cheeks

floats to us

lights the kebab Shop tussle

a teen in the gutter

nose bleeding

blooming carnation

gardens, a pergola aglow in the 1am silver of summer

where the homeless stretch out and behind

the Crown bar

blue-lit love is mojitos and One Fifty Lashes.

 

Keep up girl.

 

A grimace of police on the train,

interconnecting steel pellets greet the platforms

a diesel hiss, we are shy travelers, Saturday night

on public transport is sketchy for women

in any town, in any dress, there is always that one man (or group)

with the black Adidas bag, slick look, sweat smell

greased and ready

we ignore to avoid violence.

“Oi sluts!”

 

Stay in your own orbit.

 

The walk home quickens like breath

over there – with the blue denim cutoffs

house keys between her fingers

she empties her stomach behind the parked car.

 

Look away.

 

Women are taught to love and fear dicks

because fear breeds obedience

it is easier to sell Prada to obedient women.

 

Look up

(you begin to wonder if progress happens)

Andromeda with a bow

 

Orion’s chalk outline on the interstellar tar.

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