I See Mosaic Skin

“I see you,” I say
as I collect a mosaic of facts
about people who
profess to be
like you.
.
I skim the surface of the internet,
the intros of wikipedia,
and the stereotypes
of the media,
to answer questions
about you,
thinking
I know you
well enough.
.
When I see you,
I do not see you.
I see a patch,
and another patch,
and another,
of the skin
of my finding.
My picture
is
complete.
.
~
.
Now
we’re sitting on
a bumpy road
together
with many others
who see you
in different lights.
.
I make an assumption
about to who you are
to you
and another speaks out
that you are indeed
the opposite of that,
a patch flips
but you do not speak.
.
Ok.
I got it now.
This is who you are.
But then tomorrow comes
and yet another patch,
flips.
Do I need to go back
and research again?
.
When I come back
I feel
unconfident
about my findings
this time
and decide to ask you
“Who are you?”
.
You are at a crossroads
and unable
to give the response I seek.
Instead,
you simply say,
“listen.”

One thought on “I See Mosaic Skin

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