A Rock and a Hard Place

I was crossing Fleming Road;
there are no green men there – you just
use your own judgement
(like in so many things) and go

standing on the thin strip of the island
alone, in my party dress
double decker buses crossed paths
in front and behind, as if they were dancing

and I felt the wind that caught my skirt
as if I was Marilyn Monroe. I felt
like a fly squeezed between two panes
of glass
as the buses brushed past
for long seconds that had voices and said
Step out. Choose the rock,

Choose the hard place.

These feelings worry me. These
feelings worry me the same way I worry that
I liked it when the American Sniper
pushed my legs apart and rode me

even when I tried to close them,
I did it – Shush – half-heartedly;

I think I like things that are bad for me.

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About fiercemissc

Twenty-something Geordie girl living and working in Hong Kong. Young, free and single and making the most of it.
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