(if I were—) no (if I moved like a boy) I’d walk the streets without counting steps but I don’t I walk slowly while inside something runs keys between my fingers a small useless weapon I don’t look at anyone every glance too much (if I had his voice) I’d let it rise loud without apology mine stays low even when it presses against my teeth someone behind me or maybe not I don’t turn (if this body were allowed) it wouldn’t have to shrink instead I learn to take up less a comment somewhere far maybe not mine but the body doesn’t know it closes every time I cross the street doing the math a few more steps when I get there not relief just quiet and in the quiet I understand it was never the street it was the fear I wore like skin