Grab Her by the Heart, Not the Hula Skirt

The driver’s gaze waits in anticipation for it. We look away. We speak for the one who has no voice.

The hula dancer bobbles on the dash of a four-wheel-drive Ford truck. The dancer’s arms stretch open above her head, seeming to lounge, but she is stiff, and if the wind could blow, we would all see what only her lei and thin grass skirt are barely concealing. The driver’s gaze waits in anticipation for it. We look away. We speak for the one who has no voice.

When he says:

It reminds me of Hawaii

and the great vacation I had.

We say:

Stop pretending you don’t know

who this souvenir is marketed towards.

Well, is it so wrong

for a man to appreciate

a beautiful looking woman?

She doesn’t ask to be

looked at

like that.

If she looks and feels sexy,

it is unfair if men

aren’t allowed to look.

Her self-esteem

is not at the hands

of a man’s approval.

Dancing is an art,

and maybe she likes to

wear whatever she wants.

Are we still talking

about the object mounted on the dashboard

or a woman?