And so the next time I-passed-by
I gave her more distance.
And she stayed where she was.
The first time, i ran her off,
And I saw that she was uncomfortable;
That I’d encroached on her space.
Did she see me as just passing by,
On a well worn path,
That I walk every day?
Did she feel threatened?
Did she blame me for it?
Or, did she simply react
I’m not sure that others are so thoughtful and considerate;
Like I find myself in other people’s world; a nuisance and someone to point the finger at, as if I’m always walking on eggshells and the one taking the high road; like others are entitled to behave like children; like growing up has meant something entirely different to me.