Your eyes run down me in a long, experimental brush, <br />as if you're daring me to slap you. <br />You're hands so fast, they're almost invisible <br />then all of the sudden they're somewhere they shouldn't be. <br />You talk in a rhythmic, low rumble <br />telling me what we should do at your place. <br />with that final straw, <br />I get up to leave, <br />and of couse you don't stand up. <br />As I'm going you try to stop me, <br />then open the door for yourself.<br /><br />Kelly Curiel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/chauvinist-pig/
