Blistering Thoughts Mined from the Streets

A New Femininity Takes New York

Or does it?

 

Standing mindful as the crowd flows and parts around me

Each conscious unit made alive with eye contact

I become playfully silent

Jest is aroused and I pick certain faces that lie to me

In others generations of generous truth glow in their countenance

Holding my ground I avoid no one

Faces constructed with evolutionary certitude

Each being angelic and faultless in their imperfect beauty

The sound of bodies speechlessly rushing towards fear

The echoes of contrived dialogue fill the silence in the air

The pitted sidewalk absorbs and reflects the stirring footfalls

 

The stark differences in the curves of gender

Now there is a frank plumb line into the dark squares of maleness

But this is only a transitory over-compensation

Just as the moon pulls the tides with its silvery brush stroke

A woman’s angst from ages of underestimation

Enters the room with a seismic and volcanic brilliance

Poised for an inexorable takeover

 

Women lead calloused and forlorn men back through offices

Torn apart and reshuffled by a new femininity cascading into the workplace

Objects of testosterone-fueled dominance become vestiges

Retooled archetypes hush and limp forward

Strident with accelerated intuition

The language is transformed as new dominion digs its trench

The drab gray suits, oversized and threadbare

Intentionally shrunken and miniaturized suits

Sockless ankles and exposed wrists

All this fades into the fog of the fallen alpha male clutching at nothingness

A novel bespoke figure emerges

Graces the streets with shapely buttery calves

Winking atop the stilettos that carve and gather male attention

The falsetto mixed with hourglass hips and velvet breasts hinders all men

Male voices turn to background static

The white noise that arms a woman’s spirit

This is no longer chance

The volley is positioned on the old boy’s court

In a spot where it cannot be returned

 

Where does it go from here?

What else does it look like?

Nearby

A man looks out of his third floor window and watches a woman

It is a blistering hot day and she is in the communal garden

Wearing cutoff jean shorts with her buoyant swells peaking under the denim

She pushes a long shovel down with her foot as she plants tomatoes

Her body thrusts as she presses her foot down on the shovel

Arching her back to lift the dirt

Really giving it her all

Hips and thighs contract rhythmically

Sweat glistens on her neck beneath tousled blonde hair

Small diamond hoop earings catch the sunlight with a blinding glare

Bra-less breasts rise and fall as her T-shirt flutters in the soft breeze

The man is transfixed and can hardly move

She does not notice him

This continues with erotic industriousness

Smudges of dirt soil her calves and sweat now drips between her breasts

The shape of her breasts more rounded

Wetness surrounds and amplifies their beauty

The man finds his eyes resting on this sight

Unaware of a moment in time that could be more transcendent

Soon the job is completed

The motions and curves and glistening skin continue on in his mind

A woman who harnesses her femininity transforms a power that no man possesse