The man in the dark suit
Always thinks I’m out to get him
When I’m not
I just don’t want him to hurt me
I rather like the guy
For all the dark looks he gives me
But every time I try
To shake his hand
He pulls out a knife
Telling me to keep my distance or else
It’s all or nothing with him.
He either loves you to death
And sticks you in his broom closet
Or he keeps you out of reach
Across the street,
Always eyeing me as if I hate him
When I don’t.
I just don’t like close, dark spaces
And want a warm hand to shake
And encouraging word
And maybe a pat on the back
With a hand that isn’t holding a knife
Is that too much to ask?