Do you breathe in whistles, sir?

Because every time I walk by that is all I hear.

Every time I take a step it is just too clear

that I am a dog in a pet shop

your "Princess" or "Baby" that has been dropped

from the heavens to have you 

welcome a whistle into her daily walk

a whistle followed by a bitch thought because "Baby" 

didn't follow you back to your spot

Maybe you should ask a doctor about your whistling

because it should stop 

                  Are you thirsty, sir?

Because when you see me you lick your lips

You swallow down all of my body down to my hips

I didn't know I was a mannequin at Macy's

I didn't know I was an actress on a big screen

Paid to be your thirty-second glance of pleasure

while sir, I'm just trying to measure

how much time it will take before 

i break from your hazy

neverending stare that reminds me

that you are wrong

                 I am a human, sir.

A living, breathing, struggling, human 

In humanity there are rules that men do not abide by

but of course humans do

With your big macho wife-beater and Levi jeans

little do you know, I am not what I seem

condensed into a 5'5 TV screen is a woman, sir

I have earned my place next to Beyonce

in running the world and taking your name

carrying your children and going to work the next day

                  I am a woman, sir. 

I abide by the laws of physics and matter

Not by instagram likes and follower chatter

My photos are not an invitation to get a photo of your

lower Facebook feeds

It is no compliment to me, sir

It is no compliment, but an air raid of a century 

of feminism being ignored by a 

man who is thirsty and whistles when he breathes