on realness

Is it real, they ask her,
hands drawing near, their fingers eager,
spread out in anticipation.
She nods, wondering whether to get angry this time,
deciding not to she lets them,
unfamiliar hands caressing her scalp,
marvelling at how tight her curls are.
You should let them out! they say conspiratorially
liberate those curls!

Is this real she asks,
her hands cupping their breasts
marvelling at how soft they are.
You should let them out, she tells them,
they shouldn't be bound so tight.