theory

I walk by strangers and I see their lives

from birth to death

  written in chalk

sometimes they notice me

but they dont notice

  me noticing them

   cheating on a 3rd grade spelling bee

    or learning how to drive

     or crapping in a bedpan, already 80.



One by one I diagnose the lives

of a million little ants

in a million

            little

                  ant farms.





I come home

slam the typewriter keys

and sleep.

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R. Lynn Wilson's picture

this poem reminds me of a line from "The Perks of Being A Wallflower" by Stephen Chbosky... the main character says something like...

"I didn't know that people thought things about me. I didn't know that they looked."