How Can I Keep From Staring

They say it’s rude to stare But staring is caring So forgive me if I’m staring I’d have you know it’s for a good cause I’m looking at people Those people With the backpacks on their backs I'm talking about all of us The slim and starved, the fat and well fed Followers of this and that fad Some slow, others fast But either way, you know, people Various shapes and sizes. Arriving, departing, Standing still, pacing about Milling around Adoring fans, raving critics Fact checkers on everyone’s heels Telling stories, spinning yarn Embroidering anecdotes Or trying hard To understand what’s taking place Getting somewhere and nowhere Giving in, giving up, getting in, getting out Giving way, giving, giving away Getting in line, grinning, getting away All of them carrying something on their backs Gold, frankincense, myrrh; gossip, weed or hot air Convicts aboard the Con-Air, Fresh Princes of Bel-Air Faces plain and simple Puzzled looks and open books Sweet faces with dimples Struggling, strangled, straddled, blank looks Cuddling, frazzled, wise fools Dreaming about this and that Beaming, streaming live, screaming Looking around Visions of the sweet by and by Dreams of happy ever after Pimps, prophets, prostitutes and priests Criminals, cops, politicians, finks Jesters making funnies, people laughing out loud Secretly lamenting But filled with hope for the future Ridiculous gestures to make a point Perhaps two, about choices, about making a point Free but among the captives by the big river With all of them that wept over what they had lost And all this, of course, is just an educated guess