by Deborah BacharachThe first day I wore
my Pussy Galore t-shirt
in public no one hit me.
No one spat.
A man on the bus stared. I'm sure
I saw him licking his lips.
I stared back.
A clerk told me the woman on my chest
was none other than
Nancy Sinatra strutting her
60's bikini, thigh high white boots.
The owner told me
she would have gone except.
On the street a clown
stopped juggling to read
every word about fetish a-go-go,
live sex acts women only please.
Sounds like fun
he said looking me full
in the face. I grinned,
totally naked under these damn clothes.