I’m a people watcher
A thing I instinctively do
Please don’t take offence
If you see me watching you
Walking, such a common thing
We do every single day
But so many people seem
To do it in their own way.
That attractive young girl
With the swinging hips
And the dazzling smile that
Could launch a thousand ships
The entwined couple in
A world of their own
Listening to music
From a shared iPhone
The grizzled veteran
In some mental despair
That he’s not as erect as
When on the drill square
The teen slouching along
With his dragging feet
Being quickly passed by
A bouncy stepped athlete.
Walking, a common thing
We do every single day
Yet many of us seem
To do it our own way
And People Watching is
A habit so compulsive
Fascinating, rewarding,
And immensely instructive,
When I people-watch, I wonder
Who they are and where they live
Through the hints that they unconsciously,
Or with their knowledge, give.
Have they moved here after college
Or come searching for a job?
In their rentals or their sublets,
Who’s a neatnik? Who’s a slob?
Are they happy in the city?
Do they miss where they were raised?
Do the crowds and noises freak them out
Or are they quite unfazed?
Where they headed on this Sunday?
Is there someplace they must be?
Or perhaps they’re out to just relax
And people-watch, like me.
She used to tell me stories of the times when she would go,
Into the big, bold city, come the rain or shine or snow.
There never was a person, that took on the centre stage,
But pigeons feature in the tales that never made the page.
She used to walk her baby, wrapped up warm against the cold,
She pushed that pram with little arms, till baby grew too old.
She sat in silence on a bench and watched the day go by,
And took in all the beauty, in those hot chocolate brown eyes.
I wonder if she felt it, as she sat with words unsaid,
I think I would be lonely, if I led that life instead.
But she spoke very fondly, of the times with babe in tow,
When into pigeon park she’d wonder, rain or shine or snow.
I could spend hours people watching
Human behaviour is so interesting to view
Silently observing others lives go by
Curious as to “who are you”?
In my mind I form scenarios
Of the strangers I see
With coffee in hand
I watch intently
I look at individuals
Their lives I do surmise
Wonder is this just your public persona
The real you in disguise!
An airport is the perfect place
To look at people; every face
Is worth a glance and then, as well,
Their clothes and shoes, to try to tell
Where they are from, since likely they
Don't realize they are in display.
Their voices may provide a clue
But I prefer a silent view,
Imagining the varied lives
Of friends and loners, husbands, wives.
It may seem impolite to gawk
But that's expected in New Yawk!
Many walk past
Most without bags
Wearing fleece pajama pants
At 1:30 on a Sunday
Not a.m., we are at the mall
In broad daylight,
In front of people
Their hair is tossed
haphazardly, they are not coming from church
Or lunch at Grandma's.
One is wearing red heels, slick, patent leather maybe
High, and a sequin skirt that is not as long as my hand.
It makes her giraffe-like legs look like mini-skyscrapers
She is limping now
I feel her pain
I remember those days
Trying to look good
While blisters are killing your feet
Suddenly the bedroom slippers
and the pajama pants make sense...
People watching
My friend and I, we sit and watch,
People walking down the main street,
And we comment about the clothes that they wear,
From their head right down to their feet.
And we also predict their own life story,
Who they are by night and by day,
We ponder if they’re the one that says what to do,
Or are they the ones that obey.
Then we wonder who is a little rich, a lot rich,
And who is the most painfully poor,
And we especially ponder which one likes being queen,
And which one likes being the w####.
My friend and I, we love watching people,
Where we think and ponder real deep,
About the closets owned by each of these people,
About the secrets that they each keep.
She smoked my last cigarette and I felt cheated.
I slept with her best friend; again and again, I repeated.
They mocked him as he came passing by.
We laughed, I and them, for not any reason for why.
Smoke rolled out from the car window.
Lids captured tainted pictures turned distorted memories.
Just another low class petty thing—
Put two and two together and the high class manifests.
As for today, he people watches other people watchers;
looking for something . . .
4/11/2017
It’s a Saturday night; all the lads are on the beer
Posing in their best clothes – look out ladies we are here
They swiftly down a pint then another three or four
Soon they are getting wobbly and falling to the floor
They stumble to the disco cos they are on the pull
Eying up the ladies, but their chat up lines are dull
The music is so loud you can’t hear a word they say
One thinks he’s hit the jackpot and he may get a lay
Now on ‘whiskey chasers’ getting egged on by their mates
Getting pretty paralytic – will anyone get dates
The girls aren’t impressed and tell them to go away
The lads will have to seek their date another day
They all stumble to the door and head for a greasy kebab
Desperately trying not to vomit when they are in the taxi cab
Home now at last to rest their throbbing aching head
Thank goodness its now Sunday they can spend all day in bed.
Jan Allison
8th April 2014
Went out to watch some live music a few weeks back .....
people watching – what a fascinating pastime!
Perhaps I am a frightful boor,
But your looks were a visceral lure.
I stopped and I stared.
What if I had dared
To ask your name? But I demurred.
I'd have followed you without a thought
By your face I was utterly caught:
Like a fish in a net
My whole world I'd forget,
And misfortune would then be my lot
People say it is bad to be shy.
Maybe not, as your smile was a lie.
Looking back I can see
You are stronger than me.
I'm glad I could not meet your eye
The color fades from black to gray
but while i sit the needled play.
The junkies, human monkeys, in mass array
seek their new ways to get off today.
Some head to the mall to praise their corporate gods.
While others seek seek sex with any living broads.
The rest are all wrecks that need to be used.
The weak seek the strong, a need to be abused.
The filth parade of human waste
all have a drug and they need the taste.
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