Scorched

Chin up, shoulders back, and a steel rod spine

Painted-on eyes, hushed and cold

she walks in straight lines and doesn’t look back.

She blinks once or twice and her brow will turn

fingers grow cold, her body is numb

she looks down at her feet and wishes all gone.

But they’re there, still there, and they stare

She keeps walking in straight lines

but they’re there, still there, and they stare.

She turns and winds her way though the crowd

glances at her cell-phone for someone familiar

but they’re there,  still there, in front of her.

She tells herself it must be conincidence

but that can’t explain the staring

they keep staring, and their eyes are like fire on her skin.

She ducks her head and keeps walking

she can’t see them, they can’t see her

but someone hisses and she knows who it’s for.

He says something in a language she doesn’t know

she looks right at him and keeps on walking

and they laugh, and they stare, they still stare.

She looks the same as she leaves

and they follow, and pretend it’s conicidence

she drives away scorched, burned by their stares.

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