Every Hour

I'm loathe to give a stranger power,
and yet I do so every hour,
To the girl who makes me regret my shirt and weight,
Someone running to class who makes me think I'm late,
The old man who strikes me as an untold story,
Who makes an ageist and a sexist of me,
Two hundred people in three new classes
Who dare me to one-up their asses
and that one person of indeterminate gender
Whose gaze seems to rearrange my innards.

I don't know what to do about (her?).