Happenings

A stranger walked across my path

I caught his eye and he ripped it back from me

Annoyed that I was such a good catch

He should have been mad that he was such a good pitcher

A stranger walked across my path,

Like a black cat, his fur bristled

Annoyed that I had taken his can of tuna

But this stranger wasn't my cup of tea

his water was too hot,

it scalded me,

burned like a fresh wound.

A stranger walked across my path,

and then he continued on,

unaware of the silent poetry

that just occured between him and me.