I’ve seen you work (with your delicate fingers) a brownie batter bowl,
as though we weren't going to have pot brownies in 35min.
I’ve seen you watch me from across the room,
knowing[thinking] “this girl man, this girl…”

I’m not a story you tell. the best you can do is point,
when I’m passing through and mumble:
“that’s her man, that’s her…”

you touch me as often as you can,
outside school. when you are free and feral.
behind your tongue the monster deceives you;
“this girl is mine man, hands off.”

when you come over you are [ready,lanny,boyboy,man]
little can be done to avoid, contact. and my belt (your last obstacle)
“man, I gotta get in this girl…”