Cross walk
I'm standing at a cross walk waiting for a car to go by, we make eye contant she looks away... As I am walking across the street I wonder what that meant. was she scared, nervous, paranoid, was it me and my brown skin my brown eyes my brown hair... or her insecurity?
© 1999 Copyright Misty Barrera
If you would like to post any of these poems on your site or take them for any
other use, you must e-mail the author of these poems and get written permission.