At the Watchung Avenue Station

How does privilege work?  Let me show you how,

From my park bench in Upper Montclair,

I saw how its reproduction works now,

With a mom and a daughter with blonde hair.

Daughter is four or five with a frilled skirt,

Mom lifts her into, I think, a child seat,

Underneath, shorts--she's no Lolita flirt,

She's too young to grasp her erotic heat.

But in her later years, she'll understand,

She'll wear the same outfit, but now she'll know,

That for her body, there is a demand, 

That she'll do well to conceal, and to show.

She may decide that her privilege is wrong,

Or she may use it to sing a sweet song.