The Pink Sweatshirt

In the park by the River

On a Saturday evening

The one with the blossoms in spring

There’s a girl in a pink sweatshirt.

The zip up hoodie kind.

Walking her dog.

There’s a man in a vest.

He asks about her dog.

Then he hoots, hollers, whistles, and yells.

She’s beautiful. He’s right.

She’s walking away as fast as she can.

He wants her name.

I glare and grimace.

He says I must be jealous.

That he’ll give me some attention.

We move.

Later I see her walking back.

I see him standing up.

We’re getting ready to leave.

I make us wait.

We wait to make sure that she gets past okay.

They didn’t notice her coming.

He leaves before she gets there.

She’s safe for now.

But I still feel sick.

Her pink sweatshirt burned in my mind.

Fear stuck on my tongue.

It’s time to teach men to be different.

The end.