Jennifer Schneider

No One to Know

Invisibility, I know you. By name. You are:

... a seat at the center of a rectangular table for twelve as animated voices
float over and around your seat.
... a solitary soul alone in a crowded room full of pairs and groups of
three.
... the utterance of a sound – Hello - that is never heard.
... clothes a mix of red, burgundy, and orange hues that blend just right –
complement your complexion - but which remain hidden under a jacket – a
size too small - that was never removed.
... to sit on a crowded train – delayed - with no AC - holding an antique
typewriter - with keys that neither click nor clack - that demands ribbon no
longer manufactured.
...a disconnected landline listed in directories near and far. All seven digits
and a spelling error – a before e - in your very common first name.
... struggles to swallow a softly steamed broccoli stem. Bitter. A vegetable
you’ve always disliked.
... cough, breathe a sigh of relief when the passage clears, and realize no
one noticed.
... offers of an eight-letter Scrabble word – not telling, sorry - that no one
recognizes or approves.
... memorized jokes – Knock, Knock, Who’s There - that are never told.
... pause to view oneself in the mirror but not recognize who you see.
... to want nothing more than to be anywhere else but here. But to have
nowhere else to go.
... to have so much to say but nothing anyone wants to hear.
... to see people everywhere but know no one.

And have No One to Know.