Here she walks, veiled
to respect her beliefs.
There another poses, undressed,
to assure financial certainty.
One thin window separating
worlds – and directing birds
straight into death.
And myself right there in the middle,
making assumptions to make sense.
Which path leads to less skin,
which to more, and do they
converge in captivity?
How come they never end at the ocean
and why are there always men around
who always look the same
and always – stare?
And what is my place in this as
part of both parties?
Let’s take a trip to the seaside.