Disagreement

There is no aspect of driven snow
                                             in me.
                   It is more a coffee coloured mud puddle
                              of emotions, views, theories, testimonies.
Just as I settle and clear
                  someone walks through my
                                      equilibrium
and muddies me with a slant on
                                      an issue
that ripples with credibility
stirring me to the depths of my
                                       muddies mind.

I am not isolated on a mountain top
where purity is driven to rest
by querulous winds.
I am on the street
where people walk through me
and curse when I leave
splotches of muddy intrusion

on trouser legs.