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Walking down a corridor.
Realizing that pretty much
Everything has a Story.
The dent in the wall.
The blood spatter on the ceiling.
The sudden darkness of the hallway.
Those forgotten bolts in the floor
Where something used to be.
There’s the man running flat out
And the security guards chasing him.
And there’s somebody –
Somewhere –
Wailing into the night.
There’s the lady mopping up
A mess –
She is moved –
But she’s trying to be indifferent.
And then there’s the dude
In the scrubs
Standing there
Just out of sight.
And then there’s the people
Walking real slow.
But it’s not by choice –
I don’t think they know
Where they’re going
But they know what they’re looking for
And they’re quite content
To ignore you –
And then there’s me
Keeping my head down.
You tried to hold my gaze
Thinking I would greet you –
But no –
I’m already pretending
You’re not even there –
I hear you’ve found
Your person
Who just happened to be
Walking behind me
You say –
“What’s her Story?”
She asks, “Who?”
I’m gone before your person
Recognizes me –