Touch Me

Last night, someone grabbed my arm from behind and pulled their body in too close to mine. “Oh, so you’re the trombone player?”

Last night, someone reached out and grabbed at my midriff as I passed. “Can’t see your belly button — don’t like this dress!”

Last night, someone spilled a drink over my head. Icy rivulets of gin fingered their way down my neck and under my clothes.

Don’t touch me like this.