Better Strangers

I wish we were better strangers.

I wish I didn’t force myself to look at the ground,

to avert my gaze when I’m out and about

for fear of locking eyes with you.

I wish that you would finally have enough

of your games, of your sick satisfactions

and leave me alone.

I don’t wish for much, but I wish

for countless miles to come between us

and for some indication

that you’ll be alright at a distance.

But now I stare a ground that will not budge.