passing strangers on the street

Monday, April 11, 2016

{a prose poem}


passing strangers on the street.

glimpses of scars, expressions of pain, second glances, avoided eye contact

carrying overloaded backpacks, bags holding paintings I wish I could see, half eaten lunches and the coffee that has become their drug of choice

on their way to break up, make up, make love, find love, get lost, try harder, fall asleep, move on

looking defeated as the bus pulls away with their hand still reaching for the door, looking hopeful as they talk to someone who has good news to share, looking panicked as they realize they’ll never make it on time

and me, watching it all go past and wondering what they see when they glance in my direction



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