you pause,
poised on the brink
of experience,
coltish, uncultured,
easily spooked, while
the continental men
lie in wait,
in predatory packs.
salivating ahead of time,
they can almost taste you,
your apprehension
and your innocence.
unsophisticated,
unsuspecting,
seventeen-year-old
virgins, they eye you
like a chocolate éclair
displayed for sale
in the baker’s window.
Photo by Belinda