I wonder what it is
that you see
when you look at me.
What is it that caught
your attention
and made you smile
and made you ask,
“What are you doing?”
What did you see?
Was it my pale blue eyes,
under long,
unpainted lashes?
Was it the curve of my lips,
smiling, perhaps seductively,
chapped from the winter wind?
Did the mysterious shadows
hide my frizzy hair,
falling out of its messy bun?
Did the loud street music mask
the obvious absence
of echoing heels?
Since my feet were clad in hot
pink
running sneakers.
Or perhaps it was a trace of
alcohol
in your system,
making you reckless
in your pursuit of fun.
Tell me truthfully:
If I told you
I was only walking home,
would you have stopped,
looked me up and down,
and offered to accompany me there?
But I’ll never know
what you saw
because I never gave you the chance.
I just shook my head,
no.
I kept the truth to myself:
I’m just walking home
alone.
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