In Passing

I wonder if there’s ever been a person that
passing me on the sidewalk, or on the metro
or sitting on a bus, saw me and thought
something.

If I saw myself I probably wouldn’t think
anything, beyond in passing thinking I’m
a garish idiot, with the things I wear and
the permanent stupid look I have on my face

So I don’t mind when people call me things.
Thinking back, there’s been at least a few
people that took notice of me, I suppose.

When walking the streets near my home, a
man in a car passing by opened up his
window to call me a faggot, once, and
similar things have happened a few times.

People only tell me things when they are
meant to be hurtful, I’ve found, the nice
thoughts we keep to ourselves, I’m guilty
of just such, at times.

Maybe because when you feel irrational
hatred towards a stranger you don’t care
that you hurt them or that they might
come to hate you, they will be gone soon.

When I think someone looks pretty or I
like the clothes they are wearing obviously
I keep such thoughts to myself, if I came
up to a person to compliment them, wouldn’t
they think me weird?

What’s this girl saying all of sudden, is
she hitting on me? Of course not, it’s just
a compliment; I like your shoes, I like your
scarf, I think your dyed hair is really cute,

That’s all.

But I still don’t talk, and those people leave
and in this big metropolitan city I will never
see them again, all for the best, in my mind.

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