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| Working the Night Shift 4:37 a.m. and your shift is over-- step outside into the cool air of after a storm, and he is out there alone, cigarette limply hanging from his mouth and eyes leering. Turn now, and quickly, return inside, pretend you forgot something, don't stop to hear the words he mutters behind you. Wait-- until the old women and single mothers come outside for their smokes-- Flock-- with them, staying tucked in their midst; Talk and laugh loudly-- pretend you don't feel his eyes, pretend you aren't afraid. Unlock your car doors, Curse the moments before the key clicks into its slot. Don't waste time looking over your shoulder. Inside now, lock the doors again, breathe a sigh of relief, say a prayer of gratitude before the anger begins boiling in your gut. Safe one more night. Curse your fear of tomorrow, Curse your womanhood, which equals your vulnerability-- Curse your softness, and your smallness. Curse the half-witted man smoking and leering, Curse his shifting eyes. Curse the night for betraying you so that it may ally with him. --August 18, 2001 |