Oversensitivity Judges

And so I walked handcuffed into the waiting room

of the Oversensitivity Judges.

I sat in an iron chair,

and stared at the others.

The woman across from me in all black, with chains and some kind of metal going through her face, and her mascara tears dripped off her sharp cheekbones.

The man with the narrow nose sat with his arms crossed and head in the air.

The little girl nursed her bloody knee.

And we waited for our names to be called.

And when my name was called, I listened to my every footstep on the plastic floor.

Someone opened the door

I looked into the camber

of the Oversensitivity Judges.

At the end of a long table.

They were dressed in brown plaid suits, and they were wearing spats.

Every last one of them was balding, even the one woman and her crumbly lipstick.

"Ah." they said, universally, as they looked at me.

"Well," I began, in a wax voice, "I am hurt by my friends."

"Ah." They said, universally, as they looked at each other.

"Oversensitive!" One screamed.

I wanted to take off my handcuffs and cover my face and ears.

"Oversensitive" the others echoed universally.

"But you don't know what my friends did!" My wax voice was melting.

"You let your friends hurt you." Said the only woman in crumbly lipstick.

"And that is simply

Oversensitive." Said another.

"Dismissed." said the only man that wasn't white, I think he was Filipino.

Someone took off my handcuffs.

Someone slapped the big red word OVERSENSITIVE on my back,

and sent me out into the streets.