"Tear Gas"
A Poem
“Tear Gas”
He saw her cry more than most.
Desperate sorrow called him forth,
all the warning signs of a broken girl:
strangled sobs,
empty eyes,
& helpless hiccups.
He never wiped them away,
just crouched in front of her
& held a kind, but distant gaze.
never offered his hands,
his arms,
or other things.
That's all he could do.
Drive her home in his shitty car,
remind her of her worthiness
before taking himself back to the bar.
There, floating in a beer glass,
teasing his eyes like tear gas,
swirled reminders of her innocence
too young to bear witness,
too old to cradle,
& too touching to touch.
She was just another mirror the universe held up;
an ink pen to tuck behind his ear;
an email address to memorize
for rainy days,
convenience's sake,
& annual check-ins.
Just another way to pay it forward,
Convince himself of his own gentleness.
"What self-restraint I possess," he thought,
“to hold back from such a willing participant.”
The piece profoundly explores that uneasy space between tenderness and denial. "Convince himself of his own gentleness" hits hard; it's the moment the mask slips and a painful truth emerges. You can feel the pull of wanting to do right, yet also the ego's need to appear righteous. It’s raw, uncomfortable, and deeply honest—that liminal zone where compassion and cowardice become indistinguishable.
This is great. Brilliantly disturbing. If I'm not misunderstanding it - the man who sees himself as the savior, the good guy, the one in the white hat, unctuous to vulnerable women to show how sensitive he is when he is really toying with them emotionally.
I've seen that type a gazillion times - and confession time - there was a time when I was him. Only with time, insight, and maturity did I come to realize how wrong I was, and how men who do this are emotionally exploitative to make themselves look good. With me - never again.
It has taken me over 60 years to learn to listen - not to probe, not to find the soft underbelly. I'm still learning.