Barry J. L. Horton

TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY INVISIBLE MAN

Like the man in Ralph Elison's book
I'm hidden from society's eyes
"Oh! I didn't see you there!" say the lady in the mall
    As she walks right into the side of my wheelchair
"You really should have a horn or warning lights on that thing!" she laughs derisively
    As if that would've helped.
"And you should watch where you're walking instead of yakking with your friends!"
    I think but don't say aloud
Instead, I mumble "I'm sorry…"
    I smile awkwardly
And roll back into oblivion

"Hey, watch it buddy!"
Bellows the burly man who stepped backwards,
    Nearly falling into my lap
"Yous people always think everybody else has gotta get outta yer way!"
    "Like ya think yous own the world or something'!"
Yous people? Yous people?
What, does he mean as opposed to regular people like him?
    What does he think?
That we ride in these contraptions just for kicks?
We celebrate these prisons on wheels?
I don't have a chance to ask him.
    He storms off
Leaving me behind in oblivion

"Mommy, why does that man get to ride around
When everybody else has to walk?" The little boy asks too loudly
    For his mother's comfort
Sh-h-h-h!" Mom wags her finger
    "You'll hut his feelings!
Hey lady, he has ears, ya know!
Id've gladly explained to the kid myself
Gently, of course in terms he could understand
But she hurriedly herds her son away
    To avoid further embarrassment
While I remain in my oblivion

The teenaged girls chirp to one another in hushed tones
    Supposing I couldn't hear them
'Look at that old guy over there in the wheelchair! It's like a real shame
He looks like he musta been almost sorta kinda cute once,
    But,well you know…"
They pretend not to stare and resume giggling
Hey chicklets, maybe I can't walk, but I ain't deaf
    Or dead
That's what I should've said
    But I but my lip instead.
And slink back into oblivion.
They're all right; it is a shame
    Not for me, but for them!
One day, I'll speak my piece
    And tell them all
Hey, something could always happen to you!
Your speedy Beemer could always have
    An unexpected introduction to a phone pole
Or a errant bus might have your name on it
And plunk your pretty little asses down
    On a seat with wheels
And guess what?
You'll still be you, of course
But everyone else that you think you know will see you differently
    Or not at all

Barry J. L. Horton is a 57-year-old graduate of Rutgers University. The onset of multiple sclerosis profoundly changed his life in 1988, but he returned to school, graduating from Rutgers in 1994, where he wond the prestigious English Department Prize and the James M. Gaffney Award. Widowed in 2008, he know lilves in Philadelphia, PA. His first novel Gemini Rising was published in 2010.