Dear Harvey

Dear Harvey,
you weren’t the one
who wronged me.
The real life boss who stole
my self-worth,
my dignity,
and put strain on
my marriage
with your 2 am
oh-this-is-about-work
phone calls.

My stomach turns
that anyone would
ever think
I wanted your
attention,
or god forbid, that
it was consensual.

The worst
was the night you
called me a bitch
in front of your colleagues
at an out-of-town dinner.
My grimaced face
masked my horror
and embarrassment.
Calling at 2 am
(yet again, is this your magic hour?)
with a drunken apology
only disgusted me.
Later, I tried to get
the room’s phone records.
Just. In. Case.

Everyone saw how you were.
The board, your bosses,
did nothing but
stay complicit in
your harassment crime.
Yes, it was a crime.
Against the law.
Against all moral and ethics codes.
But given no intervention
you grew omnipotent
and feared no one.

Because yes, your behavior
was criminal
and you should have
done the time.
Let the world see
what a pathetic fool you are.

I wish I was the one
who took you down,
lord knows enough people
begged me.
But small towns
meant few jobs
and it was before
the enlightenment
when men like you
were tried and went to prison.
My silence
protected me.
Not you.
I had to survive.
I had to heal.

Somehow I believe
that you did pay.
I don’t know how or when
but the karma train
ran you down
kicking and screaming,
claiming your innocence.
As you
claimed my reputation.

So, Dear Harvey,
you weren’t the one
yet you are the one
who has become the
de facto poster boy
for the revolution
which gave strength
to all of us to speak out.
Finally.
Time’s up.
Tell the world.
Me, too.

Photo Credit: GabboT Flickr via Compfight cc