[Newspoetry] poem, new

[auntbarb at shout.net]

Newspoem 6/5/99

What Goes Through Your head While Being Harrassed At 12:30 A.M. Sunday
Morning

Walking my bike home with less than 2 blocks to go, having walked a friend
home after drinking two beers, sets the scenario.  Two men in a car pull
up beside me yelling, "Hey, you got a lighter?"  There are two of them.
There is one of me.  (Shit, why am I wearing sandals?  Why am I walking my
bike?  If I were riding my bike, though, I would be on street level, which
wouldn't be any good either....Hey, why are these guys even bothering me?
Don't they know that there have been several rapes in Champaign-Urbana,
perpetrated by more than one individual in a moving vehicle?)
        "No!" I yell in my deepest voice, speeding up a little (faster,
faster, faster...wait, you'll never outrun that car.  Shit, why ARE you
wearing sandals?  You know that you can't run away from someone if you're
wearing sandals!  So what if your sneakers smell?  They won't hurt you if
you try to run in them!  What if they get out of the car?  Do I drop my
bike and my shoes and run?  Will I scream loudly enough for anyone to hear
me, or is everyone in the neighborhood asleep?  Do I just drop my bike...
Hey, maybe I can throw my bike at them!  If I can lift it over my head, I
can probably throw it...which would damage them more than the bike, that's
for sure...heart racing heart racing heart racing.....what are they going
to do?)
        "Hey lady, I'm not trying to mess with you.  I just wanted to know
if you had a lighter!"  he yells back.  (He sounds insulted!  that
#@%$ ^*&#@!  @#$%&( @##%^ &%$#&^%&^ $^&%# #!$@%$ *^%&%$ $@%&*!!!!!  How
dare he be insulted when he just scared the living piss out of me!)


        The car heads up Oregon, stops at the intersection, and goes on
through.  The driver does not speed up, squeal his tires, or do
anything manly. My heart, slowing down as I slow down, calms only when I
realize that, not only can they not see where I live, but that one of my
housemates is home.

-Anne