FLINCH

 

Have you ever met a battered dog? They flinch.

 

It doesn't matter if your intentions are good or bad, the reaction is the same: they flinch.

 

Here's the second problem: I'm tall, white, male and have light eyes. People here are caramel colored, have high cheekbones; they're far more beautiful than I am. Still, they see me and they flinch.

 

When I say "Hola" they flinch.

 

When I say "Buenos Dias” they eye me suspiciously and then they flinch.

 

In the end, I let them overcharge me (usually not much), take my photos (lovely ones, wary people polish ordinary things to a high grace).

 

And then I go outside—where I belong.

Observations, After

©2008 Sorrowland Press and all respective artists within.