To the man who offered me 500$ to take off all my clothes by Pilar Shen-Borro
A barren day to sell in Washington Square Park, But Greenwich Village promises me a little spending money. Cat calls cut clean through my psyche. Count to 10. Refocus. Make 5 bucks off a scarf that was only worn once Ignoring only makes the cries louder. Count to 100. 11 bucks, an oversized zeppelin shirt, hopefully clean A bruised ego approaches. Count to infinity. You holler out, “500$ to take off all your clothes for me” Embarrassment smells like vinegar Enough to make me never want to be naked again Enough to take an old pocket knife out and carve my body something unrecognizable That moment, you made me delicacy, You made me nameless You made me fascination You made me, body, object, toy, thing. You made me blood pumping, bitterness, mania, destroy, rage If Shakespeare tells me to hide my fires, I suppose I’ll have to find some way to hide you away while I burn your corpse alive. 500 ways to humiliate you. Let me be ugly If only so you won’t leer 500 ways to tell you to go fuck yourself You want me. You want me bare and exposed. You want to take my dirty dish skin and swallow it. You want me shelled out and weak for you. You want me on my knees and crying. Is that it? 22
