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They Pretended Not To See
hiding in plain sight, she wove her way down the avenue
no one flinched or shied away, these were professional commuters
They kept walking, ignoring her like New Yorkers can and do
She wanted to demand they stop, to make them come to a halt
Her mask slipped for a second; no one noticed, or acted like it.
What kind of people live on this planet, she wondered.
It was her calling to find out but they were closed.
How do they reflect emotions? She wondered.
She had been taught to look for smiles. There were none.
She tried to ask a few for directions, they looked past her
No. That’s wrong. They looked through her.
She finally radioed her commandeer to beam her up.
In the middle of Times Square on a Friday afternoon.
None of the commuters flinched; they pretended not to see.
What if it was not a pretense? Oh, my cracker schangdoos!
Maybe they were blind. The entire planet. She put that into her report.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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