The Walker

I use a walker to get around A device I need in order To maintain my balance So I walk slowly. People rush by Not seeing me Making me feel that I am in their way Some are impatient I feel their warm breath on my neck As I try to pass through the subway turnstile On my way to work Just like everyone else. A few say their sorry Over time I’ve learned That people say things they don’t mean. I tire easily Occasionally stopping to catch my breathe When that happens Gestures are all I have Since my hands are busy Sometimes my face becomes like putty Primed to be explicit in nature Grimaces Winks Smiles A nod Laughter Mouthing the words thank you for a door held open. If forced, By a unexpected blocked exit Or a person suddenly veering in front of me I do something That crosses the line Melodramatic Emotional Or angry I do this because it’s the only thing I can do.