Most of the time she’s
All smiles and effusive
Kindness but every once
In a while something else
Appears, a face that
Speaks of needs unmet and
Scores unsettled, a primal
Shriek of pain and
Unhappiness tearing a ragged
Hole in the tenuous fabric
That is her daily appearance.
If he had been told
That he’d be going there
To experience something
Horrible, it’s quite
Certain he wouldn’t have
Believed it, such things
Almost always materialize
As an undesirable and
Unforeseen surprise.
As he got ready for the
Event, all he could
Think about was her
Face and how much he
Was looking forward
To seeing her again.
He still remembers
That evening, with a
Mixture of sorrow and
Venom, sometimes
Hoping he will
Have the opportunity
To repay the favor.
Fumbling around randomly
Trying to figure out
Who they are, where they
Belong, what they mean in
Relation to the greater
Scheme of things, but mostly
What can they do to receive
The greatest amount of pleasure
As quickly as possible with
The least amount of effort and
Without any regard for anyone
Else but themselves on this
Or any other day which could
Be used to gain greater personal
Insight but is expended instead
On the pursuit of the petty,
The saddest story being when
This particular modus vivendi
Is never transcended.
Aggressive roars disturb
The once peaceful neighborhood.
An old woman peers out
Through the shutters.
Another rumbling behemoth
Imposes its dominance.
A new way of doing things,
Flouting civility.
She remembers
The faces telling
Her who she is
And what she should do,
Messages interpreted
As truth rather
Than opinion.
Not sure she
Can do it,
She nevertheless
Gives it a try
And finds out that
She was capable of it
The whole time.
Throughout the square,
People walk quickly
And slowly, with
Purpose and randomly,
Going to wherever it is
They have to go or
No destination at all.
A woman looks at her watch,
A child runs after a ball,
Two men chat animatedly,
Pigeons take flight,
A statue quietly looks on.
All I remember is
Being in the room,
Surrounded by people
Who I suspect would
Not show any emotion
Even if the situation
Demanded it, and feeling
Completely alone,
Without even the slightest
Connection to anyone,
A lost child walking
The wrong way against
A crowd, unable to see
Anything but knees,
And wishing I were
Anywhere but there.
I’m not sure
If you’ve heard,
But everyone around
You has a different
Opinion of you than
You have of yourself.
Perhaps I’m stating
The obvious, but I
Wonder whether you
Might not realize
You have offended
Everyone, repeatedly.
In some small way
I wonder what it’s
Like to walk around
Oblivious to the pain
One is causing others,
Without a moment’s remorse.
