My poem today comes out of a conversation with my brother who is visiting from Western Australia. It began with my relating how I stood for more than five minutes in a pizza shop here, in the town where I live, and no-one offered to serve me, even though I  made eye contact and "I'm here" noises.

Transformation?

"They answered the phone
cooked pizzas talked to each other
no-one came to the counter they
looked away it seemed."

"That happened to me
in the bicycle shop back home
I stood a couple of metres
in front of these two and
they looked right through me."

The penny drops.
"Were they young?"
And now we know the truth.
We have become invisible.
No arguing with those
experiences. 

I believe now I have turned
to glass. For some people
I am a mirror. For others
I am not there, just like
the window panes they watch
the world go by through.

"You can see right through me".
I thought that a compliment.
Now I know the other
may not even have heard me.

(By a Baby Boomer.)