Rounding the corner I saw them, down the block
strangers in dark overcoats and thick winter hats
seeing me and turning quickly away like conspirators
… well that last thought came in retrospect.
My immediate reaction was, “This again?”
[I’m done crossing the street in avoidance
of unfamiliar men blocking the sidewalk
space-claiming or asking for money]
As I neared they watched and barely moved
until the tall husky one nudged the little one
but not enough to make room.
[please, I thought, I'm just out walking my heart, don't hassle me]
I squeezed by, scraping against a bare hedge
but as I passed the big one asked, "Do you live around here?"
A woman alone doesn't give out that information
in the 5 o'clock dimming of December.
I ignored him, but he persisted:
"Can I ask you a question?"
[geez, I thought, shifting from caution to annoyance, heard this before,
he's gonna ask me if I know Jesus
[well c'mon don't be a jerk, maybe they're ok,
just lost on this out-of-the-way block]
So I pause a yard beyond, creating distance
half-turning back, and he asked:
"Are there any Hmong people living around here?"
Pause.
Startled and uneasy, but relieved that he wasn’t asking about Jesus
I confessed, "I thought you were missionaries.”
"We are.”
[Really, I'm just out walking my heart, don't hassle me]
Then I remembered the family who sells egg rolls
at the church polling place on voting days
Maybe these two were friends of theirs,
lost on the way to a prayer meeting —
But the family doesn’t live there, and the church closed.
"I don't know anybody here.”
Turn and walk on, don't look back, but I feel them watching,
walk an extra block out of the way, don't let them trail along.
It lingered for days, the oddity of it all,
strangers on that out-of-the-way street,
in the darkening cold of late afternoon
Looking for Asian Americans.
Then Monterey Park (January 21, 2023)
and Half Moon Bay (January 24, 2023)
My god, what if those two were nativists
caught up in anti-Asian hatred,
looking for prey?
Saying they were missionaries, as cover —
the way the world is now any cruelty is possible.
Should I have called the police?
Should I now?
.
.
.
I was just walking my heart
.
.
.
What am I responsible for?
Jo Scheder explores poetry as alternative ethnography, following a career in anthropology. Her poems appear in Verse Wisconsin; Bramble; Poetry Hall; and various projects and anthologies including Bards Against Hunger and Leaves of Peace. As a musician and artist, her work is included in galleries nationally and internationally.