You know how it is. We all know men. We know some men who are wonderful. We know some men who are jerks. We know some men who are dangerous jerks. This poem is about the last kind of man…and the response society has when a woman meets up with one.

TRUST ME

Trust me.
Why are you walking behind me?

Trust me.
It’s dark.

Trust me.
Please cross the street.

  Trust me.
I’d rather be safe.

  Trust me – not all men.
Not all men does not necessarily mean
Not you.

  Trust me.
Why are you holding me?

  Trust me.
Where are you taking me?

  Trust me.
Let me go!

  Trust me.
Put that thing back in your pants.

  Trust me.
No! Don’t!

  Trust me.

 Officer, it was self defense.

Why were you out after dark?
I had to get home from work.

  Why were you alone?
Because I was at work.

  Why were you on this street?
This is the street where I work.

  Why are you wearing that?
Because it is what I have to wear for my work.

  What are you, a hooker?
I am a lawyer…a doctor…a waitress…a day care worker.

  Why did you lead him on?
I told him no.

  How much did you have to drink?
Nothing. I was at work.

 The jury finds for him.
She led him on.
She dressed like a tramp.
She was out after dark.
She was on a downtown street.
She was alone.
She was drunk.
She was…she.

Trust me.