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a young girl in a white vest bombed
my shoulder and politely said “sorry madam”
For a second I wanted to slap her back.
Instead I smiled and admired the profile
of her perfect bare breasts like two nebulae
yelling “look at us, everything begins and ends
with us, we are the mirror of buoyancy.”
I was impressed, and on the way home I bought
Nutella croissants and a profound v-neck dress
that hangs on my wardrobe next to my vanity.
The young girl with smooth skin is the target
customer of the company I work for, the hope
of increasing sales, the future of happiness.
I shouldn´t get annoyed when people label
me señora or madam, it’s all part of the strategy.
Everyone is trapped in evolving strategies.
My teenage son once slapped a bully, got beaten,
and was more upset he and his black eye
were forced to sit in the doctor’s waiting room
next to his mom. When he was three he gave
flowers to strangers on park benches and told
everyone he wanted to be young when he grew up.