Interovert Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Introvert

He who is not Jaime is known as Jaime R,
His skin is brown; India? Pakistan…?
Do not know; can be wrong…

I never saw him out
Eats little; always junk
Very cheap
And buys on internet
To his house delivered
Pays no tip…

Late always to open
The door lock; is cautious?

For me as filmmaker
For me and lovely pen
Is centre and subject

Inspires…

"Thank you, " said-not-said
Withdraws back to den
Reminds me of those days
Leprosy...

Have never seen open
Neither door nor his mouth
Introvert…

Worries me
As if an example
Of the youths with the guns
That is why am afraid
Not for me
But for him, and nation!

Every cell in brain and blood
Sends signal and warning
Hope not right…am I wrong?
Free yes and man's rights
But what if I am late?