You stuck your broom between my feet, sweeping out young, expensive dirt.
I turned back aghast at your inconsideration, expecting red knives and needles,
but there was nothing;
nothing but a yellow, mellow you cleaning the floor.
I recognised, it was really my offence,
to miss your kind blindness.
See, the thousand colourful people and the musical mall- they couldn’t see you,
and you, them.
A genial indifference,
a courteous disremember,
a mutual burial,