I often wonder
If their touch is restrained
Because my every stroke
Delivers a jolt
Of static electricity.
It's funny.
Pencils will fall from their hands.
A fallen item will avoid their grasp
As their foot kicks it away.
Before I retrieve it,
An ID card will repeatedly fall.
And a stool,
That's the funniest of all,
It will cast off its occupant at my approach.
You see, my energy reaches through them.
Does that energy cause enough alarm
That they cower behind walls,
Newspapers, or sudden conversation?
I don't know.
Mysterious forces
Encase me,
Keeping me
Neatly alone.
...perhaps
It maybe
That in energy,
There is some form
Of tranquility.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem