it’s funny when they say that i seem sad-
i don’t mean to look that way
i certainly don’t feel that way, today.
somehow it just illustrates my point.
my life is windows, plexiglass
they can’t get in, exactly
but i can’t get out
sometimes it feels the only way that i can hide is just
to sit down in the middle of the eyes
all watching me
and close my own
and to pretend that they can’t see
this is a stage, developmentally
i should have outgrown three and a half decades ago
but i convince myself
that i’m still there.
they say i scare them
with my words
vicious things, and i’d be lying if i said i didn’t mean them
but the fear, of course, is misplaced
were i dangerous at all
i would have told them all to go to hell
a million words ago
abstract, everyone can see
the things they want to feel
i am mirrors, don’t you get that?
i’m not real.
late at night we spoke of introverts
and then of introspection
and as our words fell in together
wrapped themselves in understanding
i was let out, for a moment
from behind the plexiglass.