Years gone by.

Not as lean.

Short cropped hair — history.

No chef’s coat

Hanging off my frame.

No. An old lady in a

Girlie, startlingly pink sweatshirt

Flowing orange silk scarf

Shoulder length white hair.

Still, in one week

I hear, “Sir,” twice.

From the gate agent.

From the building guard

Who wants my bicycle

Parked elsewhere.

The mind

Takes shortcuts.

I’m tall.

For me

A mild annoyance

Corrected quickly

When I speak.

For the brown face

In a hoodie

It can mean much more.


One thought on “Shortcuts

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s