Sometimes it’s hard to remember
That most people you meet are nice,
Because human nature tends to keep
The nasty little ones front and foremost.
Like the cashier who, handing me my change,
Turned to her co worker and whispered,
Prompting the woman to look at me,
And shake her head.
Never mind the guy who opened the door for me,
The kid who gave me a high five in the supermarket,
An acquaintance asking how I was,
And the frothy cappuccino
All spoiled by a whisper
I did not hear,
A split second moment
That meant nothing to anyone
In the whole of the cosmos
But me.
Because my fear is they knew who I was
And that is the one thing I will never understand.
Categories: Art, Blog, Creative writing, Photography, Poetry
A Different Country 
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