They watch me with stunning gazes.
Where he from? Where he been?
Their heads swivel as I pass and sounds are mumbled,
nodding, smiling, that empty smile, and
I can feel their uneasiness, or is it mine?
They stare like I'm an animal on display,
foreign to them so don't touch,
walk with sideways glances,
and speak behind backs and walls or in front of me.
It's different, an alien landed in their town and they
need to examine him, read him, question him,
who are you?
The children flock and laugh
with me? at me?
Giggles translate well, so do gestures,
and shrugs, and waves,
our hands speak louder than our words.
Words can have a million meanings, so they don't have one.
A waste land devoid of the luxury of health,
a smog hangs like a ornament on the sky,
Always hazy like a smokers lung,
buildings are beaten and battered, a battlefield,
but it is quaint, it is real,
what is real?
Thinking about things in their way.
And remembering the notions that brought me here.
I did take advantage of those things, but now,
now I know. It is a small token of something else,
that speaks a different language, and
eats hot with hot, not asking for something more than
the little they have.
It is admiration? It is disgust?
I can only tell by the blank stares.
As though they are capturing my soul.
I see the mountains climbing high in the distance
and the hustle, true hustle,
the striving for everyday.
I had no idea.
I can see.
Virtue is the simplest empathy.
