sol, my soul

buttercups and crocuses and daffodils are bursting out of and brightening every previously ignored muddy crevice; dogs are frolicking across the soft, loamy ground; babies are giggling from strollers, comfortable and cozy in sweatshirts alone. winter has finally succumbed, and, god, am i glad for it.

i am further incensed and irritated with males today. the xy chromosome seems to override any sense of subtly or nuance. even my man is plagued by the underlying evolutionary motivation that compels them to behave so crudely, to leer and nudge friends. the same that inspired this:

I wish you, hardhatted, knew
(though I sort of think you, preying, do)
how my stomach sinks, chest contracts
walking past your orange vests and hats
set my jaw, stare straight ahead
you nudge your buddy as my cheeks grow red
lean over your tools, forced inside my sight
“hey, baby, got big plans tonight?”

seems never to disappear. some women relish the power of their pussies, some women delight in the dropped jaws, the intent trail of eyes, the lapses they incite. as i shed the winter skin of bulky sweaters, scarves and coats, the ravenous lobos return, sharp tongues lolling, licking their chops. there's nothing powerful in it for me. it's not nearly so flattering as it is threatening, predatory.

when i sent him that poem at spring's emergence two years ago, he responded that there must have been some shyness in me that prevented me from being proud when i found myself admired by construction men. i said then i doubted that was it; in the wake of this morning, i remain dubious. i just don't need the banal, bestial response.

this plays into my reaction to his reaction to women. i wish that he could rise above it. i wish that he could be bigger than his lust. i wish that he could transcend his chromosomal inklings.

maybe when i'm 45 and no one notices me, i'll feel differently. maybe when i started shedding my woolen skin in the springtime and men look past me to the more supple, tender undercoat of the younger women around me, i'll yearn for the whistles and comments, the glistening chops.

today, though, i want to enjoy the sun in peace.