The Woman in the Wheelchair

he variety of human forms
Short, tall, fat, thin
Meld into a sea of shapes

I navigate on wheels among them

I swerve to pass
(Rather artfully I think)
Students who are window shopping
Drawing an arc around them

A sole witness,
An old man wearing a Grateful Dead cap,
Pumps his arms.
“Zoom zoom” he mouths through parched lips,
Egging me on.

Nodding, I jam my joystick forward,
Moving into a small open space
But the sea of shapes closes in

“Watch out,” someone says
“For the woman in the wheelchair.”

Releasing the joystick,
Amid the ebb and flow of bodies,
I can only think
How they all look the same to me,
The woman in the wheelchair.

Copyright 2008 Ruth Harrigan