Hidden devices, the voice always remains

The voice above me was not born like ours are born
through screaming
His (if I can call him a he) was manufactured
like fake breasts – to appear god-given –
and tell us where to put our change.
These trains are all wrong.
3 have passed me going the opposite direction
That is not the order of things. One West. One East. One West. One East.
It’s all West West West to the bad part of town
where white chollas like myself shouldn’t venture alone.
My only flaw is believing people want me when they,
in fact, do not.
Why is this chubby girl staring at me – she must want to be skinny
Why is this mother eyeing me – she must want to be unattached
Why is this man trying to undress me – Oh, I’m standing in front of a metro map.