JUST ANOTHER DAY

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ABSTRACT POEMS

          

  "You look funny."  "He looks funny."    

            

   It is just another day on my feet.

            

  "What happened to your hand?"  "What happened to his hand?"

  "What happened to you?"  "What happened to him?"

            

   It is just another day walking my beat.

            

   "You hands look big."

    "You hands look small."

             Yep, I've heard them all.



            Are they infected?

            Yes, sometimes there is the unexpected.



             Can I touch them?

             Yep, sometimes it gets a bit much.



            OO, I'm scared.

           Yep, for whatever they say, I'm prepared.





            "He looks weird."

            "Why do you have those?"

             Just another day at work.  This certainly is not

             a perk.

             Just another day at home.

         No, these people never leave me alone.

             It may be, as Shania says, the same old line,

            every time.

             But then, variety is the spice of life.

             "That's some thumb you got there!"

              That's a new one.



             "You have fat hands."

             "Look at your fat hands."

               Another day.

               Another way to say it.

              

               Just another day.

                No, these people never leave me alone.

  

        "I think everybody is the same."

   I ask, "Do you have the same hair color as me?  Do you have

   the same kind of hands as me?"

        She says no.

        I ask her if she still thinks everybody is the same.

        She says no.  

        I say I like it that way.



    If I cut off my hands, then they won't ask about them.

    Then if people ask why, I can say,

    "I cut off my hands, because too many people were asking

     why they looked different.  Now they do not ask why they

     look different."



             Just another day.





         He is scary, we should hide.  That has happened more than more than  once.

            I want to touch his hand.  Again, that has happened more than more than one.

          One kid hugged me.

   A kid touched my hands, my hair, my face, everything.

  Yep, I'm real.

         He looks like a puppet.

    

             Eww!

          His hands look fake.

         A teacher laughed, and finally said they were not.

         I am glad one person could laugh about it.



   HOW MUCH OF THIS DO I HAVE TO TAKE

  WHEN IS TOO MUCH

  EVERY, EVERY DAY

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Lesa Gay's picture

Not quite sure where you were in this one. It could be referring to self or it could be referring to life in general, where people are far from kind when seeing someone that is not exactly as themselves. Sad that humanity is this way.

Blessings,
Lesa