You stare at me, sporadic passersby on the footpath
Only to turn away, mumbling. (As if I can't hear you!)
I lean back on the bench, look to the clouds and
Enjoy the sunshine's warmth; for once I am in no hurry.
But still I live within a small, sequestered envelope—
A bubble, an island—a lonely bench in a plain park
Where few dare travel.
And while I sit I wonder how it is that
I wear the usual shirt, grow the usual hair,
Mutter the usual small talk, and yet
All still freeze at the sight,
My warm gaze petrifying,
As if I wore Medusa's serpentine crown.

Even when you seek my company,
I see the fear in your eyes, the stutter in your step.
I'm not going to hurt you.
(So says the six-foot rabbit!)
I see The Question before you ask it, hidden under
A tight-lipped breath sitting heavy in your throat.
It is the child burrowed deep within your imagination.
It is the first feathery feel of something uniquely new.
It is the desire to come out and enjoy the sunshine.

What's it like to be odd? My ears may be long;
My twitching nose may slope a lapine slope;
Hecklers may never pass an opportunity
To point and laugh at my furry face…
But I'm still smiling.
Human in a rabbit, or rabbit in a human, I exist.
The sunshine keeps me happy either way.
How about you?