I feel your eyes upon me. Eyes of pity.
Eyes of blame. Eyes of hate.
I frighten you.
I fill your head with what ifs
I am the mirror you
wish to avoid.
I am the mirror of
I am Idleman.
You hold your breath as you pass. You
straighten your back and quicken your step. You grip your purse more
tightly beneath your elbow and tell your children too loudly, that's
what happens to people who don't stay in school.
The children write my name on a
cardboard placard, lean it against the wall. Tourists laugh and
point, or frown, troubled by this intrusion into their happiness.
I earn my keep with a paper cup, coins
dropped in penance to absolve you of sin or assuage you of your
There is a certain productivity in
One can dream.
One can watch.
One can hope.
One can learn.
And yet, I do not wish my life to be
I wish for ought-to-bes.
to go back to the life I once knew.
to go back to being you.
I see you.
I watch you rushing rushing rushing.
Feeding the insatiable corporate beast.
I am reminded of myself
I judge you, as you judge me.
We are both found wanting.
And in the inbetween; that space
between idle and insanity, perhaps we can meet.
Labels: Trifecta Writing Challenge