In the Cage
It is often difficult to discern just how loud traffic is at night. Drivers zoom in their stratified lines, and pedestrians stomp their steel-toed boots from block to block. From afar it doesn't seem like anybody is looking at anything - as if they're all minding their own business. I know better. I know better then to believe they don't have eyes on the back of their heads, or under the soles of their feet, or over the lenses of their cameras. They are always watching, day in and day out, waiting to see whether I have met their visual quota for the month. It's not like I can escape those eyes either, as I sit like a mural under the sky, blocking the light of the stars from reaching the concrete that holds me. The city lights shine too bright, and the smog in the sky is barely enough to blanket my bare body from prying eyes below. I let them stare, but I curse every turning head. A whole city of people look up to me, look up to my nude figure in the hopes that it lo...