You and I
Walk a darkened road; shadeless,
Dimly lit by a street lamp,
That we have yet to reach.
You from that side, along the wall.
Me from this, along the curb.
You on the right.
Me on the left.
I anticipate
Your fear
With mine.
The one that knots my guts,
And lumps my throat,
And sweats my palms.
The one that you and I have almost always known.
Your father warned you about:
The thief, the murderer, the rapist.
My father warned me about:
The cheat, the liar, the oppressor.
We merge under the light.
You sidestep toward the wall.
I to the street.
My father said never to corner a wounded animal,
And we are the most dangerous kind.
© J. Manuel
