Involved

Sometimes I get so involved
The room around me melts
The people blur, their mouths mute
My thing, my focus, my need.

Much like the woman today
“Can I have four dollars?”
“No,” as calmly and kindly as I can manage.
“Can I have one dollar?”
“No,” with the same gentleness.
“Can I have four dollars?” her voice rings down the street.

Under a bench, I see a white circle.
Bending down, I find a penny caked in sidewalk salt
And another and another.
Feeling inspired, I note the four one-dollar bills in my pocket.

I walk down the street, patiently waiting for her current conversation to conclude.
“I have four dollars.”
She gently takes them from me.
I feel satisfied, ready to continue my day,
Asking people for donations in my own way.
What do I expect?
Thank you maybe
Perhaps she will go on her way,
Having raised the required funds
For food, bus fare or anything.

Not a moment has actually passed
She looks into my eyes and says
“Can I have some more money?”
I feel the wind leave my lungs.
My brow reddens.
But why?

I was doing my own thing for my own reasons.
So is she.
Involved in her task
Doing what she needs to meet her need, to survive
I melt away. I am not there.
I blur. There is no me to her.
Not then. Not there. She is involved.

Do you want to write with me? Please join me for an upcoming Kind Fools’ WRITE ON! workshop