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?