what am I...
if the mere color of my skin
smears fear, suspicion and dread
in the heads of perfect strangers...?

what am I...
if I feel the need to
recede to a sanctuary within  
my very own black skin
allowing the familiar stranger
sharing the elevator
to exhale
and set  her bundle of apprehension,
perceived and imagined,
aside
for the ride...?

what am I...
if I instinctively
hide my black eyes
in the screens
of iphones and ipads
avoiding icontact when isolated
with nervous strangers
lest I inflate the balloon of anxiety
to panicked proportions....?

creating that space of comfort
for all nervous strangers in my life
becomes my obsession...

and I switch lanes
by night
crossing to the other side
of  streets with dim lights
lest I collide head-on
with trepidation personified
in the eyes of perfect strangers...

and I ditch the hoodie
for a crew neck sweater
by abercrombie and fitch
lest some slug with a 9mm gun
profile me as a ****
and defy order, rhyme and reason
to exercise his license to ****
in the still of a rainy night in florida
with no credible witness
in sight...

what am I...?

~ P
(7/18/2013)