You don't know my name.
My name must be baby.
You see my hips swinging down the train station platform,
my skirt above my knees and a button or two open on my shirt.
My name must be mami.
I'm mouthing to the music,
and I'm smiling agansit the bass.
My name must be honey.
My face is soft and I'm looking innocent.
Don't touch me.
No you can't know me.
No you can't have my number.
So because you can't have me, I was ugly anyway?
This poem is about:
Me
Guide that inspired this poem:
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: