Should I stumble, as I am most certainly to do, pay no attention 
        to the rip on my trousers, or swollen bruise on my knee. I have many 
   more scars,     and they have become a better part of who I am.     As if 
       character marks on the surface of the antique table, or the 
 cumulative incidental nicks and scratches on a ’61 Telecaster 
                                    lessen the intended beauty and purpose.
       If I fall, and you discover me in the gutter, I will not need assistance 
 returning to my feet, but would appreciate 
        a hankie to dust off my skin, and perhaps a fresh bandage 
        to mask the blood spilling from within.
              When, at a street corner, I seem stalled or uncertain, please 
              pass me by. There is no need for directions, as 
   I am probably just deciding if it is choice or a chance. We come 
   across many paths, and they all move forward. I have an idea 
 where I am going, and might later become sidetracked, 
     or choose a cross street. You would be best thinking 
     I will someday find my destination, than feeling you had led me astray. 
 It’s not that I am above asking if uncertain, but 
                           I would find it more purposeful 
 to step ahead unknowingly, than to have you feel a burden 
 or responsibility.
                     Should we cross paths again, and you find me in repose, or 
           a terminal state of confusion, you would be better off continuing 
 along the cracked sidewalk. It is not that I wouldn’t enjoy the company, 
 it’s just that I cannot answer your why. Share a smile, however. 
                                                 I do collect moments, as souvenirs, 
                                  and what better way to remember anybody 
                                                than to know you shed a little light.
                        Later, when you catch sight of me in a park; on the bench;
                 under a tree, near that fountain, with my camera, or a journal, 
        please leave me to my silence. Know that poetry 
 is having its way with me, and I have already shared 
 the crusts of my sandwich with the pigeons.               Generosity comes 
                 in many forms, and I am grateful for each of life’s experiences.
      As you take in this fresh autumn chill, do not be concerned 
      for my welfare. I will find the warmth, as I always do. 
 Yet, should you feel cold, or uncomfortable, do not hesitate taking 
 my sweater to cover your shoulders.                             The garment, 
 like me, may be tattered and frayed, but in it you will find comfort. 
              Return it to me when it is no longer useful.     I have others.
      If I were to unexpectedly bump into you at the market, 
            and we are as surprised then as we had been when, 
                           remember how we once shared something, 
                                 and we are both better off because of it. 
                                                     We were not strangers, not then, not now.

© 2016 j.g. lewis