I walk down a dark street
hollering. A man, well outside arm's reach,
hears me,
looks up,
crosses the street.
My voice is baritone, my beard is unkempt.
Neither are my fault. I shout,
You! Yeah, you. Come
back over here. He hesitates,
shuffles across the unlit
road, his head
begging his feet to turn. Were you
avoiding me? He nods. Afraid
I was going to do something?
He nods
once. Fuckin’ hurt you? He stands
frigid. His bangs sway. I wouldn’t.
He peeks,
I’m gentle.
down the street behind
me. You can go.
He sprints out of earshot. I scream
regardless, Remember,
I ain’t fuckin’ scary.
You aren’t fuckin’ scared.
He doesn’t hear me, but I do.