Outsider

Outsider

I drove past you yesterday.

I saw you at the
Local cafe.

I noticed someone
That could have been you
Walking on the overpass.

I’m sure it was you
Sitting at a table by yourself
In the atrium.

I served you food.
I cut you off.

My shoulder brushed
Yours in the hallway.

Do you remember?

You must have heard
My voice on the television
Or radio or in that song.

I built your key ring.

I invented the bed
You slept on.

I work at the factory
That produces your brand
Of shampoo.

I signed that bill.
You know the one.

With your top, I bought
Myself a second lunch.

I was the person
On duty that day.

I’m the artist who
Designed
Your favorite shirt.

You heard about my crime
On the news, and how
I escaped prison yesterday.

You heard someone I know
Call my name at the park,
But you won’t remember it.

I thought of it before you.

I was the nurse
In the operating room.

I was in the kitchen
Of that diner
When your food was made.

I stitched your coat.
I made the signals change.

You accidentally stepped
On my foot and then
Apologized.

I got home and saw
You run out to get
The mail.

You said no when I
Asked you.

You watch and pay
Attention to me on
Your screen.

I wrote your beloved
TV show.

I might know someone
Who knows you.

I had the idea for
Your belt.

You might have contracted
My flu
Strain.

You don’t know where you
Come from, but in my lab
I can.

I made your pants
Too small.

I rolled and packaged
Your wrapping paper.

I got a regift
Of your present.

I bought the junk
You put up on eBay.

I asked you for spare change.

I stole your stereo.

I killed one of your ancestors
On the battlefield.

I used to own
The home
You live in.

I waved at you,
Unaware that
There was someone
Else behind me
You were addressing.

I dropped
That penny
You picked up.

I once used the lamp
You see as an antique.

You bought groceries
At my register.

You glanced over me
At the
Movie theater.

You only ever heard
About me.

I replaced your
Footprint
In the sand.

I held a railing
Where once
Was your hand.

I misdialed you.

I saw a photo
Of you
A long time ago.

I deliver your post.

I read what you wrote.

I sold you a DVD
Years ago.

I had class in the
Room beside yours.

I made a mental note
Of how good
Your hair looked.

That money was once
In my hands.

I programmed
Your navigator.

The first person
Beating that path
Was me.

You saw what I
Carved
On that tree.

I began the movement.

I easily manipulated you,
And you still
Don’t know it.

I decided that sometimes
Stripes aren’t tasteful.

I like your style.

I’m still waiting for
Karma to take effect
On you.

You flashed me
With high beams.

We argued
On the internet.

I sorted recyclables
From your trash.

You passed me the salt.

I saved your life,
In some small way.

I’m the reason
The line
Was busy.

I decided that price.

Your produce was
Shipped
In my truck.

I bought the farm.

I took your spot.

I was.

Published by Jake Thomas Shaw

Concerned with memory, currency, and destiny, I strive to capture each one as they happen. Join me and consume reality! Radio Reality. City!

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