I Don'T Trust Them Poem by Eric Gibson

Tell me enough,
Tell me with appealing definitions
Of the innate purity of the twenty-somethings
Who mill about you.
Tell me they weren't watching you with
Precision and ancient equations,
Surging and thinking,
Taunting themselves into action.

What is my face to them but
Another pitiable story of bravery
And sentiments?
What am I but one more figure
To dodge and scheme around? ! ?

They're holy with unfeeling
Objectivity and complete,
Uncaring remoteness.
They stab and invade
Then retreat to tiny microcosms of
habit and
Acquaintance:
Hiding,
Losing themselves within the
Dense swarms of cities that never
Notice,
See,
Speak,
Connect.

Are they above suspicion?
Tell me they are naïve as children.
Tell me they want to know you,
Tell me they're not concealing themselves,
Tell me they're not ghosts when I come into sight,
Gone…
Tell me they miss you,
Tell me they love you,

Because I don't trust them.