I’ve been thinking
about strangers lately.

We
are encouraged to look
at the strangers around us;
someone could be your hero,
the person
you’ve been looking for
all your life,
to encourage there is still hope in this darkening world.

We spend energy believing we don’t know the good ones,
they’re some sort of myth,
documented in history books,
starring on the television shows.

But: maybe I already know my hero.
Maybe we’ve been friends since the seventh grade,
freshman year,
last March.

Maybe I’ve known my hero my whole life, but
they wore a disguise: they knew my name.

 
 

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