To the beautiful foreign woman I saw on the metro today/

You looked beautiful
In a blue summer dress
Blonde hair, curled up in a bunTrudging alone, making your way, in those tangerine flip flops.
You, woman, seemed like a breeze
I can never feel in this dusty city’s heat.
I was looking at you, admiring you, accepting you in my country,
But, unlike me, I noticed many
Who were eyeing you too.
It sure made you feel uncomfy,
I know, I could feel it too.
I can only apologise for the
unkind stares you have to bear
People here do reject the idea of different clothing predominately,
It’s the stink in the minds
Like hungry cats they ogle
Like uncivilised pigs they scorn
“A woman in a dress” equals
“A slut in need and distress”,
I apologise again
for you have to experience what we do everyday
It might be unusual for you, but it is usual for us who here stay.
Also, as I get to the end of my ode,
I advise you to look directly
In the faces of people like these
Because you see?
Being a rebel in this country
is that simple and easy. ( πŸ˜‰ )
.

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