Isthmus of Ignatz

Brick by Brick

Thursday, December 09, 2004

stranger in the bus stand

It was a nothing moment in a dumb day,
his face received, his head thought
nothing. What was he but a miss
in that moment; anything more than the asylummed
all their lives? Vulnerable, defective, hateable.
Then he saw me watching him,
and hated me.

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