from the time you can sit in cotton modesty you are to hide
in thickets til breath is taken
your secrets in a conch shell
with sideways crab walking men
scurrying to take a peek
if you’re pleased by their flattery and smooth legs
these romantic conquerors
under trees in caravan parks with rope tricks and balloon
animals
they need to find the sweet breath
the scavenger hunt
a violent pinata
you’re only wanting to feel the sand on your legs
but they think you’ve got candy
hidden
in lands of flickering streams and golden hills
and the conch shell is shaken
as they need to get inside
you raise your eyebrows because you know they’re wrong
it’s not their playground