tacos strewn on the green egress, where
bloomed the dandelion we picked like lilies sun 

pitched in the middle of the sky as third eye
in swath of blue, my tiny red striped t shirt,
sleeveless, and taut, the nipples already
showing at ten at ten, 

i was not concerned at ten i should have been
concerned the world rolls this and that way off
its axis, at 30, my nipples showing through
blue muslin 

a man the color of just before sundown touches
me, fumbles at my left breast, assaulting me
right in the wide bright yellow sprawl
afternoon, people walked by biting into a
hotdog hawked on the street, or dipping plastic
forks into wet paper boats, lifting up spicy
stewed goat to their mouths, and the sun
refused to shift as I was fondled without
permission on sixth avenue, the moon bowled
out and shy, where moments, before i walked
in sandals, cool in a sleeveless long summer 
dress, the scent of where violet meets ocean
and his vocal chords soft when his arm hurled 

out, hand descended—i scream, draw into
talons to claw orange and he whispers n//gger
whore as if his was caress, as if it was 

gesture of willow, as if I should be privileged to
be molested, how many ways to say it, and for
this, called, called, before he slips into the mist
of people        it does not occur to me  

to cry

for the police