Pardon My Intrusion
KAF/00
* * * * *
We met only for a brief moment
I wonder if you ever knew what you met.
Probably not, though I unsettled you.
Pardon my intrusion.
I only passed you by chance.
We sat on the same bench by coincidence.
You glanced at me and were indifferent.
All things being equal, no threat to you.
Then I spoke and your eyes shifted.
The timber of my voice.
My words struck a chord within you.
No gentle melody, you felt distrust rise inside.
You looked closer.
My clothes were cut a bit different.
The hair spilled over my shoulders.
The cut of it unfamiliar to you.
Oh yes, the fear rose inside you.
Deep down, in the black pit put there,
By your parents, your teachers,
By those you thought where friends.
You think you are clever.
You go on the offensive, to scout me.
Hey there, what is your name?
What is that tooth hanging around your neck?
I say my name.
Your brow furrows at it.
It is a wrong name to you.
A name that no person is supposed to have.
I tell of the tooth I wear.
You chuckle and wink.
Trying to convince me you get the joke.
But in your eyes I see fear.
Fear because my name is no joke.
Nor is the tooth that dangles, taunting.
The thing it comes from cannot be, you think.
I must be one of them.
Oh yes, them.
The many things mother taught you to fear.
The cults, she said. They’re everywhere.
They could be anyone, you know.
Or the wicked pagans.
Or those crazy people who stand in airports.
Maybe someone who talks with Satan even.
Or failing those, just the catchall vermin, a fag.
Maybe daddy told you there were no little people.
No monsters in the closet.
Unicorns, nope. Not a chance.
Not even space aliens.
Not even space aliens?
Come now. Even Mulder believes in them.
But you believe only what is acceptable.
It wouldn’t do to embarrass yourself.
Down the street, the bus draws near.
You eye with with relief, a metal and glass savior.
I give you an odd smile.
You smile back, a little confused, not knowing why.
You head to the bus, not looking back.
I find it amusing that all the things I could be,
The things you could classify me in.
Still don’t even come near the truth.
I send a silent apology after you.
Sorry to intrude into your world.
Sorry to cause discomfort by existing.
I gaze up at the sky, clear blue afternoon.
As I look at all the things most cannot see.
The things playing among the clouds,
The things hiding in every corner down the street,
I think it is ironic really.
So ironic that in truth,
It was not I who intruded into your world.
It was you who intruded into mine.
But sorry just the same.
For which one of us, I can’t say.
* * * * *
Written by a kind soul of this world I was graced to have met.