People Watching

I find myself Thinking. 

Thinking about American Beauty. 

The movie-- Not the Reality.

The reality is unrealistic. 

I see myself watching the world with a skeptical frown. 

Waiting. 

Counting-- Each step matters. 

Rewind. 

Pause. 

Adjust the color. 

Replay. 

Walking like zombies, 

screeching like magpies. 

Lost. 

Happy. 

They catch each others eye(s). 

Was he looking? 

Was she staring? 

Their lips crack. 

A smile is born.  

Study everything:

His hands are shapely.

Fingers long.

Palms bloody.

Can you see him thinking?

Ambition.

Fallen to his knees; screaming profanities.

His heart is empty.

Lights.

Casting shadows on their faces.

Lurking. 

Whispering.

Secrets in their pockets.

There's a hole in the seam.

Lost, purposely?

Did you see the gap before stuffing them there, carelessly?

Sarcasm.

hiding.

I hear myself complaining.

It hunts me.

I stare helplessly.

He holds her face in his hands.

Her eyes are searching.

Like mist-- disolving.

It was never me. 

A land where no man loves me.

He does, now. 

He lacks the proper timing.

A cacoon. 

Unopened. 

Sacred.

She's been tortured; 

A lack of touching.

I lay awake, pondering.

She waits.

Tapping.

Whimpering.

Halting.

When I breathe, she breathes with me.

My eyes close.

I awake to find another morning.

Shining for me, only.

Will a walk in the park suit me?

I find that people watching is the most healing therapy.

It's only them. 

Not me. 

Rhythm.

Safety.