Adriana DiGennaro

Some People

 

I see people writhing like snails
in their own quiet ways, not knowing
what to make of me

 

some appreciate and celebrate,
say things I tuck away as keepsakes.
some condemn what I consider my virtues,
or work my frustration like a spiky marionette.

 

some come forward
with unforeseen intentions, proposals offered on the sly,
approaching with caution, so slowly
I cannot tell if they're moving at all.

 

some construct a complaint
and throw the jagged sculpture at my feet.
I'm to give back the parts one by one.
some people are loaded guns
shimmering with false innocence
some are strictly riddles,
far-off unexplored terrain

 

some are orbiting sadly around me
nipping at my ankles like excitable dogs
while others glide past in flames,
like Nefertiti on a barge,
leaving me charred.

 

some feel for my hand in the dark
some secretly bloom in my light
some show me the door, then regret it or don't
some put me up for the night