Tag Archives: Stranger danger

I Avert My Eyes

Standard
Eye

Image by aepoc via Flickr

I wrote this one today. I often feel like this in public places. My emotion starts out as self-consciousness, then gradually spins into something else entirely.

Your gaze meets mine.

As nobodies,

we pass on the street.

Is it stranger danger I fear?

Too scared to murmur a polite hello.

I avert my eyes.

 

You’re my new co-worker.

The friendly, spunky sort.

I like you,

what you’re saying.

We could be friends.

I avert my eyes.

 

I recall a peculiar Kevin.

Fourth grade. I didn’t mean to stare.

He was just so tiny, I was intrigued.

He’d catch me gawking, glare at me.

I’d avert my eyes.

 

I catch you looking at me.

Perhaps we’re at a bar.

Dimly lit. Smoky, like the good ol’ days.

Maybe you were about to buy me a drink.

Too risky—

I avert my eyes.

 

You’re a girl about my age.

I love your scarf. Your nose ring.

Your whole vibe in general.

I should compliment you.

Instead—

I avert my eyes.

 

I look at you, looking at me

as we pass in the grocery store.

Is there something on my face?

Only my obtrusive optics.

They’re too bright.

I avert my eyes.

 

Do my eyes…

Pierce your skull?

Burn your soul?

Why do I feel mine can’t dare meet yours?

Do you fear your secrets exposed?

Don’t worry…

 

As your gaze meets mine,

we’ll simply pass as nobodies,

on the street.

I know now they’re

Dangerous. Daunting. Electric.

I’ll avert my eyes.

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