reasons you should not pat my head on the subway, a poem

[rm]

I don't know you.
I did not give you permission.
I am not a small child.
Or a dog.
We are not playing Duck, Duck, Goose.
Where have your hands been?
I hate you.

Clear?

Comments

[riverrocks.livejournal.com]

When I first shaved my head (back in the early 90s) I had a lot of unpleasant surprises when people would just randomly start to rub my skull without asking. This happened all the time, while I was riding the bus or sitting in a coffee shop or working as a server in a restaurant (really, the best way to get hot coffee poured in your or someone else's lap is to reach up and start caressing the server's head while they are refilling coffee cups). eventually i perfected my tough and scary glare and was gifted a leather jacket, which, combined with the shaved head, earned me an extra zone of personal space here in the Midwestern US, but it took me a while. Oh, how I wish I'd had your line about Duck, Duck, Goose.

a few years later (still with the shaved head), I spent some time wearing a filter mask and using a cane when I was out in the world, and the petting/patting continued, but it took on an entirely different tone.