she hovers over two men on a bike beside me. i watch her pull at their noses between the index and thumb of her fingers. i fidget as i await her arrival toward the open window of my cab.
instead, she walks over, cranes her neck just enough to wave and say, “hi madam”, before she walks away. she hadn’t even paused long enough to request my charity. and i never felt greater satisfaction to watch myself be saved of a discomfort that men had to induce instead.
patriarchy had made me cruel.