Erase My Existence

I venture into a house, wander in
to a room and then in to another;
drop my card on a table in the first
and one on the counter in the second.

I glance at pictures on the wall, wonder
who the people are, what their lives are like.
If they’re interesting to talk to – or not;
if they’re remarkable in any way.

As I survey the novel surroundings,
an uncomfortable sensation seeps in;
I think again, collect my cards, and leave.
My desire: erase my existence.

Eyes open with no rose-colored glasses,
I realize I’m not ready for this.