C-L-S

I walked through the walls 

I was invisible 

I stood during conversations 

I stayed behind as we strolled 

I spoke a word an hour 

I laughed to be included 

Sometimes it's hard to write poetry

It's almost like the words get stuck

in the folds of my mind before they reach the paper

Or maybe I just can't describe

memory

We didn't know the guy 

in the truck 

who's that guy? 

my sister asked, 

and I wondered if city people 

expected to know everyone 

they saw around town.