Not many of you see me when I’m like
This. Anxiety heightened, filters down,
Autistic, more than usual: there’s a spike
In flapping, stimming. Usually I’d frown
And look remote. Hope people would ignore
Me till the meltdown moment passed, unseen.
I was an expert at just seeming bored
When overwhelmed. But since I haven’t been
In public, I’ve not used my public face.
The mask has fallen off. I don’t know where
It is. It’s fine while I’m in this one place
With someone who will understand, and care.
But when we meet, what are we going to do
When I’ve forgotten how to act like you?
Tom Juniper Poetry 