In Passing

In Passing

Average;

every meaning

of that word,

I am not.

 

Because

it takes hours for me

to leave the house.

 

Complications with

simple little things,

like what earrings to wear,

or what shoes go

with this skirt.

 

Befuddled.

 

And If I ever get out

the door.

 

I’m going

to run into THAT neighbor

in the stairwell again.

 

And he’s always smiling

when he says hello,

but not in a

good way.

 

In a,

“I know what you

really are!”

way.

 

And I look down

at my feet

when I pass.

 

Because I don’t like

looking him

in the eye.

Reviews

[Misery]

Well... _/ ...here's a drink to the eyes that know, but have never walked a mile in the shoes it took so long to choose.