Market day

Yelling at me
in the market
with her hands
as guide
and me,
the lunatic,
with my skinned hide

and her
with her propaganda
and her unwashed hair
with her cigarettes
and her Feminist stare
and her lips
and her lips
and her lies

and vapid

you've raised the pitch
one note
too high

here, I am the lunatic
surrounded by no one
no where