In Sanity

They roam the streets
In rags. The air about them
Reeks of unwashed and unshaved pits
With their unkempt hair
Only the bold would dare
Look them in the face
Market women keep their eyes
Peeled and alert
A broom or stick ready at hand
Ready... Watchful... Wary
Of their filthy fingers on
Precious produce placed on
Tables and stools
Their presence is a proof of
The absence of sanity
They are a scourge to society
The antonyms of civility... Yet
I do not despise them
I envy them; they live caring less
Unlike me, they are free.

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