I keep my cool incognito sort of like Clark Kent. No one knows that I am the ultimate badass. I hide it under layers of flannel and grey hair. I hide it very well but take no chances so occasionally I throw in a klutzy move or an awkward encounter. No one suspects a thing.
The voices in my head all agree it’s time. They whisper then laugh at me and my feeble attempts to navigate through another day another labyrinthian set of interactions with my fellow humans. Why is it so difficult? How can I find the courage yet again to face each one, when every meeting, every conversation, is a pit with sharpened sticks waiting for me to fall and impale myself upon them? Others don’t even notice the red, neon signs “DANGER” that begin blinking above their heads as soon as I walk up to them. So once again, I prepare to go out, prepare to do battel with everyone who is going about their business so casually, so comfortably. For them it’s easy-peasy. They have no idea just how harrowing it is, how exhausting it is, every damn day. This is written for http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2021/04/sunday-muse-156.html.
Early April, and warm enough
to keep the windows open overnight
and so we wake to birdsong,
which is more of a repeated chirrup
than a song.
It reminds me of a dripping faucet
if the droplets sounded sharp.
Still, the air feels mild
and smells of rain.
This is spring – gentle, yet sharp.