Suited and Booted

Sometimes to me
The world doesn’t feel ready
For such an ill-fitted
Person
To walk its streets
I’m suited
And booted
With nowhere to go
And all signs
Point to the effectiveness
Of an angry glare
And a spit in the face

No wonder
The mothers are worried
I’ll eat their children
Or those I say hello to
Look silently past my shoulder

It’s rather strange
To know that I’m so intangible
When the need arises
For others
Not me

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