the boy in the laundrymat wearing ***** pajamas has a split lip and two dark circles under his eyes you try not to look at him as he fumbles coins into old machines and trips over his own untied shoelaces
the man ahead of you in the supermarket checkout line pauses briefly in the unloading of his grocery cart to leer at the cashier, a young twenty-something with green eyes and a bruised cheekbone you pretend not to notice the quiver in his hands as he scans item after item, wincing at each beep and trying to look smaller, trying to shrink into his own skin
the teenager in the subway is standing weird and you notice that he is attempting not to cry the tears come anyways, and as he makes small choking noises, you look away and stare out the scratched windows, tunnel walls scrolling listlessly past as the boy wipes his face with a ripped sleeve
the sounds coming from the alleyway leave nothing to the imagination you keep walking, even as an older man emerges from the dark, zipping his pants you ignore the hushed sobbing, and as you crawl into bed that night you can still hear noises that make you gag
you try to tell yourself that you did nothing wrong but you don't succeed