Fear Anonymous

She shuffles her feet to kick a stone
of burnt umber into the street, sending
quick ripples across a pool of runoff barely
noticeable to most of us on a Monday, then
grins sheepishly up to the April sun sliding slowly
down the brownstone and cast iron gently
waiting above her head;

you wouldn’t know it look at her how
brilliant she is among all this concrete, yet
she copes with your ignorance by smelling a daisy
in the open market;
she can no sooner afford it or the
time it takes for you to summon the
courage to ask her for her number or coffee.

Guts run empty, and raging adrenalin flows like
the bent river cautiously floating its flotsum
in uniform politeness by your chair,
cold at the edges, and fearful of one curvasious torso
that would have the power to relive you of your income
tucked unsafely into your back pocket.

She crosses the street to the vacancy near your styrofoam cup,
pulled by a rope hidden to those who dismiss optimism and happiness,
and sits gracefully like a blue jay perching on a cable wire;

you have many chances, though you wouldn’t know it
if they licked your nose and sang a show tune.

Your fear of confrontation would shock most modern
scientists, even this moment of truth passes into oblivion;
what could or would become of this encounter becomes
a non-event in a life filled with missed chances, but
be comforted in knowing you are not alone with this malady:
misery is company at your level of self-respect.