Every day as I walk
Down the hall at work,
I glance at the wall.
There it still hangs,
A reminder of yesterday.
One lone young lady
Appearing to be trapped,
Surrounded by the eyes
Of a dozen men
As she scurries, though frozen,
Down the sidewalk.
Her delicate hand
Clutches firmly on the strap
Of her purse draped
Over her wispy shoulder.
Determined, she fixes her stare
Straight ahead, eyes front.
Unable to change,
Her face remains unmoved,
Her mouth forever open
For a short intake of breath,
And they, the men,
Youthful and old alike,
Gawk and gape at her fickle form,
The unheard jests and jeers
And disgusting wolf whistles,
The obscene hand gestures.
Doesn’t matter where they are:
Seated at the cafe
With their afternoon coffee,
Plastered to the steps
Smoking cigars,
Perched on a motocycle
Stopped by the curb,
Or ever right in front of her.
She is surrounded,
And no matter
Which way she would turn
(If she could),
They, too, are frozen,
Forever trapped in that moment
Fifty years ago.
And I, frozen for a second,
Stand there,
And of my own free will,
I choose to move again,
My thoughts whirling,
Thinking how that black and white photograph
Clashes with the colorful world
I live in…
Or does it?
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