She reads her paper Oblivious To
its intrusion on my air space Mine, claimed by possession Hrumphing if by my presence I make her fold it into
tiny sections To keep it out of my face The seats on the train too small For the size of her and her paper Who
is right? The size of the seat Or the space she really needs Or the space I take by force?
Blond hair,
bright, shiny, streaming Makeup perfect High-heeled boots Everyday I walk past her Behind her Around her
We get on the same train At the same time I work in the same building At the same company We ride the
same elevators She's never noticed me Oblivious But unhappy Admiring her new boots
He walks his kids
to school And himself back home Coffee cup in hand Not oblivious to me Wishing he were walking me to school
instead Scraggly beard, sad Thinking life had to be better than this Trying to hide it from his family But
I, the stranger, see
Life is hard In a foreign country Her chin tells me so They live, foreigners, Asians,
among nationals Never looking up, not smiling Only the kids play Oblivious To their collective hardship But
relative wealth
I used to pass him every day And somehow started saying hi A teacher I assume On the way
to work In my town Always in beige trench coat With glasses A hello assumed An unspoken habit Without
which the day Didn't seem quite right
I too am a foreigner In a world of African american culture It surrounds
me on all sides In the people On my ride home They play their boomboxes And talk loudly amongst themselves
And laugh, and joke and fight I watch Wishing I weren't the outsider Their world seems So much more fun
Not shackled by the social restraints Of middle class, white America Yet still really so In their history
and grandmothers Who will never let them forget And rightly so. Often I feel sad and wonder If they feel I
share the blame Maybe I do And every day I try Not to be oblivious
And every day I try To be aware.
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