The Two Worlds Apart
I sit and stare through the glass wall,
It’s gloomy, windy, raw, and cold.
Tree branches bounded by the windy blows,
Losing last leaves and scatter them below.
People are passing, crossing by
Dazed as ants after the autumn gale,
Walking senseless, without knowing why
As passing through corridors of jail.
The faces and the eyes,
The round, deep-set, and some very narrow.
The blue, the dark, the hazel ones
With funny hair, pointy as arrows.
I see a woman stepped out of a taxi.
High hills and trendy leather coat.
Red lips, long lashes. Thinks she’s sexy.
She walks as she is on a rocking boat.
On the other side of a busy street,
With a bunch of bags, in dirty jeans.
Sadness and hunger in her eyes,
And empty can from baked beans.
The beauty of existence lost somewhere
Between the taxi and an empty can.
One doesn’t really seem to care,
The other wonders if she can.
November 2007
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