sir,
pardon me,
you terrify me.

and I assure you it's not you, sir, but a man I knew at the ripe age of six years old
with your voice, your hair, your body
his two first fingers somewhere even I knew they weren't supposed to be
(though he told me I was made for him and surely you don't say that to someone you know is not yours to touch)
he didn't know any better, he was only a boy
That
is what the world has told girls like me
so maybe you won't know any better either

i see you in my body
your unsolicited touch on my coarse skin, my skin
that has been rubbed down and worn away with every other part of me
and i'm sorry, sir, but
i don't believe i can carry on this conversation whilst having these thoughts in my head

at this point i'll excuse myself to go cry on the
floor of a single-stall bathroom cause you, sir,
a waiter, a teacher, a nurse
you're not a big part of my life and you'll forget me by the morning but to me
the truth is
you're the scariest thing i've ever known
(cause again i can't stop seeing your body in mine)

i'd love one day to ask you how your day was
you'd say Good and ask about mine and i'd say Fine Thanks
and i'd go home and forget you cause who remembers their encounter with a Trader Joe's clerk ten years after it happens
instead
instead i weep when i see your name is John and not Katherine not out of blatant sexism but rather of purely concentrated fear

i am petrified by my thoughts of you
and i will
Never
escape them