bus pervert.
The stout sweaty man combed his goatee like a cat as I approached.
Once upon a time I wrote about him, and then he came true.
A blue fairy tale book stuffed with transparent unicorns, scrawled with scriptures (oh, he was holy alright), traced castles and deer. On his way to see the doctor, he said. I'll show him what I've done.
Through the corners of his eyes, he loved my legs.
Moist, sad brow. Hungry.
And I wanted to laugh. And I wanted to scream.
There was a time when you said it just can't be the fault of men. It's women, you said. You were dead wrong.
It's never enough.
Once upon a time I wrote about him, and then he came true.
A blue fairy tale book stuffed with transparent unicorns, scrawled with scriptures (oh, he was holy alright), traced castles and deer. On his way to see the doctor, he said. I'll show him what I've done.
Through the corners of his eyes, he loved my legs.
Moist, sad brow. Hungry.
And I wanted to laugh. And I wanted to scream.
There was a time when you said it just can't be the fault of men. It's women, you said. You were dead wrong.
It's never enough.