Upon A Street, Two Strangers Meet

Walking late at
night, I notice
that most people
cross the street as
they approach me.
We each get a
sidewalk for our
journey with a
street as a moat
between the two
of us instead
of a twinge of
trust as we cross
paths, and though I
do not do this,
they do, so it
amounts to the
same as if I
did, and maybe
they just had to
cross the street at
some point, so they
did it then, but
I don't think so.
The pattern holds
up far too well.
I don't know if
I should feel sad
or happy that
I am scary.
What do they think?
“I'd rather be
sexist than raped.”
“I'd rather be
racist than robbed.”
I suppose there's
nothing wrong with
being cautious,
but I wish we
lived in a world
where a midnight
stroll were soaked more
in moonlight than
it were in fear.

22 December 2014