Do you know me?

Have you seen me somewhere else? Perhaps in a dream? Am I nothing but déjà vu or an acid flash back? A long forgotten image? A glimpse through the cracks of society? Did you forget about me? When you ate dinner with your family did you think of me? Did you think of the fact that I will never be eating steak? I will never be sitting in wooden chairs, oak, shiny reflecting the light from your chandelier as the hum of an unwatched alone TV set reverberates through your house? Did you see my eyes, my insides? The broken dreams and sanded down insides that burn in my innards? Did you see my rough skin and shaggy hair? Would you care if I had cancer? Would it BOTHER you? Did you mention me over dinner? Do your kids listen to you? Did your father listen to you? Are you happy with your life? Why didn’t you pay me when I washed your window, if you’re driving a luxury car? Were you afraid? Afraid of me? What could I have done? Could I have damaged your car? You must think I’m diseased? I know something you don’t? That girl you cheated on your wife with. She took pictures.

I’ll see you on the street.