Slam Poetry

Slam: I Made It To My Car

Sometimes a certain issue or experience leaves my thoughts a jumbled mess. When this happens, those thoughts usually come out in some form of slam poetry. I hope you enjoy this one titled “I Made It To My Car”.

My heart is beating fast, fast, fast as I decide to share my thoughts with you.

Fast, fast, fast the same way that it beat last night when the big man in the dark jacket was standing near my car in the parking deck.

He was smoking a cigarette but all I could see were his hands moving to take me because maybe no one has ever told him that he can’t.

Fast, fast, fast were my sweaty palms and clumsy feet as they each tried to grip my keys and brokenly dodge all the cracks in the pavement .

But the cracks are reminding me of fissures that I see, fissures in the minds of everyone who didn’t believe me when I said I was scared to walk alone at night.

Theres nothing to be scared of! These cat calls are compliments yelled into unwilling ears lewdly from sidewalks and store aisles!

Tell that to my friend who heard one of your compliments fall to her deaf ears and now she can’t move from her mountain of pillows and dreams as she tries to rejoin the world but can still feel his hands complimenting her as she screams STOP!

But all you women, you exaggerate! You make up stories like I make up lies to cover my skulking through the night while my wife sleeps.

Sir, you look a lot like the man who was waiting by my car.

Fast, fast, fast are my words as they implore you to listen, you see I know that not every man is as vile as the ones we are warned about from age 3 but how can I tell the good ones from the bad when they all look the same in the dark?

You taught me to walk fast, fast, fast and keep my head down and not wear that skirt because it might provoke him.

But I never heard you tell my brother that he needed to be afraid.

You see, my body is not a buffet and I did not offer it to you. My mind is not a web that you can weave lies into like you do.

I will not cover myself and shy away from the beauty of the stars because I am afraid that I will finally be blinded, not by the light but by your darkness as you place a hand over my face to stop my screams.

I am the keeper of my movements and the warrior of my ways as I walk through the night.

You, in your suit with your fast, fast, fast talk and smooth words like molasses over warm biscuits. Who are you to tell a warrior that she doesn’t have the rights to her own body?

Are you the man waiting in the night? Are your laws and rules another way to keep me locked inside where I can’t challenge you?

I digress. Why is it that no one ever told my brother that he couldn’t yell out to the girls walking down the street, but I was beat with the words that said to just ignore those boys who shrieked towards me?

Fast, fast, fast are my jumbled thoughts walking towards that man in the dark jacket.

I made it to my car.

 

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