She said, "But ______ didn't break you. It didn't fuckin' break you. And you should be proud."

___

I told another she, "It broke me. It broke me. And no one can tell. That's breaking me."

She said, "Well, how can we tell? How could anyone fuckin' tell. You are an onion,

wrapped in concrete,

with a little satin bow on top to boot."

___

She said, "You're so tiny. When I held you, I thought, 'Where is she? Where is she?'"

___

She said, "None of us could approach you. You looked cruel. We thought, 'She will think we're morons if we even try.' And then, you weren't. Cruel. And I thought, okay. And you're just this little sensitive thing, come to find out."

___

So no one will pull me into the bushes, or their car, I walk in the middle of the boulevard in the glowering shimmer of 1:30 am afterdark. Maybe the car that swerves just past my toes thinks I am drunk. And I think of my cruelty and I am glad.