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You did not kiss her
Cleavage lunging
Legs of Aspen
Reaching for paper cups
Wedged between coolers,
Broken ice dispensers
And you.

On choppy train home
How suits did lean
Onto studded jeans
Of blue-haired girls
Gift-wrapping butts
Some called them sluts —
Not you.

You are not one —
Not one
Of them. Those men
Who lust
And leer, who gape
And rape.

A decent man you
Married her. Made her
To your daughter.
Midst their lips
Lie your honor —
Yours to keep
To own
To savor.

Of their sacred
Temples you ensure
They stay pure
Stay protected.
Nightly offerings in return
Is all that you’ve expected.

A loyal man you
Married her. Made her.
Fathered her. The moon
{May hide}
Her face in clouds
Of acid. But you
May not be —
You may not be