Prompt: Everyone <blank>

Everyone is a Little Crazy

Take for instance, the tiny old Black man
dancing in the subway station.
He’s too dapper to be desperate—
dressed in a pinstripe suit and vest—
his plastic gold pocket watch
jingles from the chain
as he step hops step hops
between beams. He tips his fedora
to the little ones who point
and giggle as their mother
shushes and shoos them down
the platform. We catch each other’s
raised eyebrows, shake our hanging
heads in unison at the plight
of this poor old soul who shuffles
every night at 42nd Street to invisible music.
We rather just go home, wind our way
through the city’s bowels, push past
the after-five throng, sprint and miss
the bus, the short green light
on Eastern Parkway, the last chance
to pick up tomorrow’s dry cleaning.
We think it’s better to plop on the couch
or crawl into bed, stuff our emptiness
with Oreos and lose our minds
in the glare of the screen. We think it’s better
to wake up every day, turn down
our white, white collars, smooth
wrinkles out of worn pants, and pretend
like we’re not walking around with no clothes.

~Pamela L. Taylor © 2013