Seventy-Five Degrees

In summer–

I wear my cheeky jean shorts

And my tight black tank top

I put on a show for myself,

when the sun is high

When I can drop the extra cloth,

and show the streets what I really am:

I become my collarbones and elbows

The inches on my waist and hips

My dark knees and bony feet

The roundness of my chest

The heat will bid my polyester jacket

to fall from my shoulders,

And my jeans to drop to my knees

I will stand bare, as I do every morning

But my form should seldom change 

For until the air drops below seventy-five

I will be a woman.