A New Wonder Takes New York as Feminine Inertia Overtakes the Alpha Male.
Why Women Have Backed Men into a Corner of Their Own Desire.
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
For a while there was a frank plumb line into the dark squares of maleness
But this was 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 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
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
Deflated male laurels are replaced with an intuition proudly displaying a pink hue
Then
Strident with accelerated intuition
The language is transformed as new dominion digs its trench
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 deliver the final nail
A paralyzed freeze of the gushing violent stream thought to be unstoppable
Male voices turn to background static
The white noise that arms a woman’s spirit
Gravel reeked distortion stained with diesel
Buzzing into translucent doors trapped within the parlors
Hung on the wall with knife edge certainty
Bellowing the halls in ordered pronouncements
Now flows on an updraft of feminine handling
Out is coaxed to permanently stay out
Replaced with a new sound
Desirous music fills the bankruptcy and is delivered in its place
On butterfly wings never whispering the past
Moving beyond the chipped stone statues of the cold deacons
Barred from reentering the precious new steeple
This is no longer chance
The volley is positioned on the old boy’s court
In a spot where it cannot be returned
Ceilings crash down
Boardrooms involute on themselves
Emerge solid, retooled and petrified with a cosmic feminine vision
A new guard of female who has no reason to wonder
Yet wonder she does
And this new dialect merges the greater wordsmiths
With a forthrightly channeled emotional intuition
Supplanting the cold binary logic that once ruled
With a beauty and creative genius that dips its toe
Farther and more mysteriously into wonder
Where does it go from here?
What else does it look like?
Just up the street
Nearby
There is no talk of glass ceilings
A young girl realizes early how to put her male contemporaries on a leash
An invisible lasso that redirects all desires her way
And abandons other pursuits
She sharpens her hook, tightens her line and adds heft to her sinker
This all comes as her gift arriving in her mind without effort or education
A power enlisted by the species’ drive to propagate itself
Distorts and shakes down the male psyche with promises of eternal pleasure
A power impossible to ignore and less likely to resist
A glimpse is all that is needed
A man looks out of his third floor window and watches a woman
It is a blisteringly hot day
She is in the communal garden
Wearing cutoff jean shorts with her buoyant swells peaking under the denim
Blonde with the roundness of a delicate peach
The man’s eyes become tactile
A beauty that blurs thought into touch
As if, in his minds eye, her softness becomes palpably real in his very own hands
A dream that takes too many vivid cues from memory
Conscious life pales in the background and bows with respect to a new reality
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-earrings catch the sunlight with a blinding glare
Braless 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
She knows what happens if she is noticed
This continues with erotic industriousness
Smudges of dirt soil her calves and sweat now drips between her breasts
The shape of her breasts become 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
She gathers her implements and walks away
Each stride elegantly pulsing an arousing up-shift in the firm flesh of her derriere
Back and forth
She knew how to send off her sexual energy with metronomic regularity
The motions and curves glistening in the orange-baked sun
He looks at his hands expecting to see something there
She stops at her door and reaches down to pick up her keys under the mat
Her shape assumes the rounded proportions of a love-alien come to rapture him
She disappears into a corner first floor apartment
These images record onto the permanent reel and continue on in his mind forever..
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