Punched in The Head

Puma Perl

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Lyrics by Puma Perl Music by Joe Sztabnik

Lyrics

When you’re walking down East Broadway carrying a bright red tote containing four library books and a small Trader Joe’s bag with a metal colander in it and your phone, keys and wallet are safely tucked away and you stop to look at a photograph of a neighborhood artist you might get punched in the

Lyrics by Puma Perl Music by Joe Sztabnik

Lyrics

When you’re walking down East Broadway carrying a bright red tote containing four library books and a small Trader Joe’s bag with a metal colander in it and your phone, keys and wallet are safely tucked away and you stop to look at a photograph of a neighborhood artist you might get punched in the head by a guy about 5’7 wearing wraparound shades and a multicolored hoodie.

Probably your own fault. Your mother always said you read too many books.

When you’re walking down East Broadway and you get punched in the head an older man tells you to calm down it’s okay that you got punched in the head and a younger guy fiddles with his phone and says he didn’t see anything and your own phone is so safely tucked away that you can’t take a picture of the guy in the hoodie who looks over his shoulder when you what the fuck at him and rounds the corner onto Jefferson Street while the older man makes sssssh gestures with both his hands.

Probably your own fault. For being a woman who stops to look at photographs and takes her eyes off the road.

After the guy punches you in the head you tell yourself you should have chased him you should have clocked him you should have hit him with a book you should have hit him with a colander you should have carried mace instead of a book and a colander you should have been able to reach your phone.

Probably all your own fault. Because you didn’t train like a ninja because you’re not Princess Leia because you didn’t hear him come up behind you because you stood so close to too many amps because you had crushes on bass players who always wound up with other girls anyway because you didn’t marry anyone and now you lack the invisible protective shield of somebody’s arm across your shoulders.

After you get punched in the head on East Broadway you are convinced to file a police report and the officer who takes the report is too nice to be competent and has the same name as your former dentist and a NY Mets pitcher and the detective is the same age as your son.

And Victim Services calls and you hate the world “victim” And the detective calls and says it’s a crime against the “elderly” and assures you that you don’t look elderly and you hate the world “elderly” and then it turns out it’s filed as a misdemeanor, sort of like stealing a red lipstick from Rite Aid.

Probably your own fault. You should have provoked him to hit you harder. Then at least he’d be charged as a felon.

© puma perl, 10/23/21

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