Purgatory

I'm at jury duty.
I don't mind it, but in this weird purgatory
it is hard to write anything that matters
or to censor my emotions about things that aren't really my business

And so I'm blogging

I am grateful for other people's
oversharing
grateful when information is power
and I don't have enough of either

Saw the picture of the boy of a boy I used to love
he was really a boy
the photos
unrecognizable
not even the same person
and I look exactly so much the same

How did he manage to hide himself, his old self
while mine hovers?
He recognized me on the street once
and I had to ask, "how do I know you?"
There was power in that too.
In not having knowledge
that one little moment

I don't know you
You look so different I don't have to acknowledge
how I embarrassed myself at the age of seventeen

It's impossible not to embarrass oneself at that age
or at mine, apparently

it's not a new thing
this feeling
that made a man lock eyes with me twice on the train
Maybe he wanted my attention, or maybe he was trying to figure out
was it the sun or
something inside me
making my eyes tight that way?
it was both

thinking about what to say and when and how to be a good person
it's boring
it's nothing to share, but you can have it