Sheesh

I see that look
You are casting at me
As if I have grown
A third eye.

In the brief ten minutes
I am sitting here
Before the library’s terminal
Writing out my verses
And prose.

What is it about me
That you need to
So rudely stare.

I expect
This type of behaviour
From a young child
But not a mature adult
Such as yourself.

Guess I have over-estimated
The intelligence of adults
When they must deal
With a person
Such as I.

Only wish
I had gone over
To your computer terminal
Asking  you
“What the problem ma’am”.

Alas I did not
Feeling you were not
The expenditure of energy
On my part
Maybe next time
Ma’am.