Just a Man

“I’m Just a Man”

He clicks his teeth, and says “Baby, I’m just a man.”

As if being human was a vice,

a cop out or an excuse,

I fall inexplicably like a toddler taking new steps,

“You won't let me lick or touch,

but women have needs too, just let me pop a few fingers in,”

I marvel at the indifference and stare at bruised knuckles.

“You know what they say, 2-3  fingers for the s***s,

but baby you look like you don't have milage I’ll settle for 1.”

In the moment I do not ponder him or myself,

instead I stare at his hands,

greedy

eager

lusting for a body i never even wanted to be in possession of.

When I mumble “no”

he smiles a ghastly one,

and I remember all the men who tried to have a piece of me

a sliver of a woman to make the time go by faster

“I’m just a man”

As if being human was an inconvenience,

a cop out or an excuse,

I fall inexplicably like a drunkard in the street

There’s something about hands that I’ve always found interesting,

since the time I was small.

I look at his now,

the ones begging for entry

They are a hair darker than his face,

                   and I wonder how that can be.