People Watching

I saw people walking through the streets, As cars lazily rolled down the one lane road. Pairs holding hands, mothers and sons, Suited men retiring after a hard day's work. The awkward side-steps avoiding strollers, Exchanging waves, exchanging glances. And gentle brushes past a shoulder, Dogs on leashes wooed by giggling girls. I saw a kid in a Giants jersey and sunglasses: "Hey man, thanks for meeting with me." He walked up to another guy in pink shorts: "No problem, I'm glad you feel like you can talk to me." I saw a crying girl and an angry guy Who talked in hushed voices laced with sighs and sniffles. They stood close enough to be lovers, But distanced themselves as if they were strangers. "I'm sorry," she said. "No, you're not," he replied. I saw a guy walking to his car in a frenzy -- Phone pinned between his ear and his shoulder. He fumbled with his keys; his eyebrows were furrowed. "Where are you? I'm coming to get you right now." I was just sitting on the porch, drinking a rum and coke I sipped my drink as I contributed my silent commentary: I thought Mr. Sunglasses needed a haircut, Rolled my eyes at an over-dramatic couple, Scoffed at the hysterical guy, just too protective of his girlfriend. I didn't know that the kid in the glasses had just lost a friend to suicide. Or that the crying girl had just cheated on her fiancee -- Two weeks before the wedding. I didn't know that frenzied guy's sister had called 'cause of a car crash -- Only to find out later that it wasn't so serious. But neither of us knew that then. We get as close as we want to people, really. It's our choice if someone's a nod or a hug, A friendly smile or a glare, or even a "hello!" As we walk down the street -- unique, but the same. It's been said that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, And others say that's why the cover's there.