Strangers aren’t strange

Strangers get a bad wrap because they are straddled with being strange.
I define strange as something unusual, abnormal, and somewhat surprising.
I walked by many people today and none of them appeared to be strange.
Strangeness does creep in though as a person quickly looks away when I approach,
stares straight ahead as a pass,
fails to meet my toothy grin of, “Hi!”.
Maybe they’ve been burnt by strangers in the past,
accosted by men,
scorned by women,
look at as unoriginal by children,
and ignored by puppies.
Maybe they are hurt and don’t want to say hi.
Maybe they are scared and don’t know how to smile.
Maybe they are so deep in thought that it doesn’t occur to them to share the air.
They aren’t strangers to me, they are just people I don’t know yet.


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