The Stare

My fault, I guess...

You let me pass

leaving your wife ahead of you

(in my head, more stress).

*

You smiled; me too.

What else could I do?

Claim racism; yell and scream?

I walked away from you.

*

It feels like a dream

(imagine all that steam

spouting from my ears)...

Things are not what they seem.

*

I only know my fears;

I learned it over the years:

a small gesture, more or less,

creating hidden tears.

*

Note: this is based on some recent incidents I have had to face here. I felt as though people were treating me differently because of my race, and my radar, after many years of experience, just went off over one particular incident where I felt that a couple saw me as a threat right outside my own home.

At least I got this poem...

-K. D.

*

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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