Imaginary Audience

A concrete road
with cracks
and poisonous mists
and growing flowers
is walked by a single person
who only stops
once they smell the peppermint mist
of the sidewalk’s end.
They can not
turn around
and can only see the past
in their inner eye,
so they cannot
possibly know
if the people following
a little behind
are real or not.
At each stop and trip
the walker hears a jeer
and some snickers,
canned applause streams out
after awkward conversations,
and its and long walk
to the end
of the concrete pier.
The smell
of cold mashed kettle corn
and stale beer,
does not help.
Others tell
the side walk walker,
with their heads lowered
from high horses,
to ignore the voices.
But he begins to wonder
if they too
are part of the crowd,
the conspiracy.
He feels so alone
with his mocked differences,
seemingly he is unaware
that his sideway is not unique
and the audience
is an inconstant presence
who are all occupied
by their own concrete paths

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