Looking through their eyes
it was hard for me to walk
as I judged my walk
as stiff and “white”
and hated myself.
I saw myself
through their eyes
on the
Football field
Basketball court
Baseball diamond
Hell of high-school gym class
stumbling around
in ignorance of the rules
and fear of the hurtling spheres
and I judged myself
a useless faggot.
I saw myself through their eyes
talking to white kids
and it appeared both
that I hated being black
and that I was better
than those black faces
watching me.
I saw myself in my
outdated boot-cut jeans
and leather jacket
as a nerd and
a freak.
Something beyond
explanation.
I saw my delicate face
and thin limbs
and heard my “proper” talk
and saw myself as
a victim waiting to happen.
I saw my thin frame
trying to remain invisible
as I walked the halls
between classes
only to wind up hunched
over a spiral binder
drawing comics, while
the teacher talked on about
Algebra.
Through their eyes
I saw myself walking
stiffly to the stage
in my graduation gown
to the deafening sound
of no applause.
And later, through other eyes I saw
my nappy hair and
full lips
set against
the sea of punk rockers
all white.
I saw myself trying to be
punker than them
to camouflage the blackness.
Through their eyes
I saw a strange dreadlocked
black man in an elevator
maybe a rapist
or robber
probably ignorant.
For 40 years I missed
everything that was
right in front of me.
half my life sacrificed
to the beast with a million eyes.
