You watch too long but look away fast.
I know you say appearance doesn’t matter.
I get out of my car, ignoring this for both of us.

At most job interviews, you hardly ask me a question.
I see you get your answer by the bewildered look
which causes my face to frown.

The children outside the store
back far away when I go to enter.
You grab them to ensure their safety.

I apologize as a habit.
Though I have done no wrong,
you make me feel a criminal.

I went north a few times.
It was a little better
but you were still there too.

Sometimes you come to work
to complain that I was hired,
but when I don’t work, you call me lazy.

You will surely outlive me,
being present at my funeral
but my life will make you weaker.