We are passersby in each other's lives,
hiding behind impassive faces,
bystanders who watch each other arrive,
then disappear, forgotten and traceless.
We witness a gesture or hear a word,
without ever caring about what's said.
With no wish to listen to what we've heard,
we choose to ignore as intrusion instead.
As strangers we share one moment in time,
nothing but extras in each other's films.
We edit out everyone else's lines,
bit players who can be dismissed at will.
Absorbed in the dramas we call our own,
we cut through the crowd as if alone.
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Author Notes
I've done it, you've done it, we've all done it - gotten so wrapped up in our own concerns, whether great or petty, that we fail to recognize the rich lives, joys and concerns of all those people we encounter. The bank teller, the grocery cashier, the man sitting next to us on the park bench, the woman at the next table in the restaurant, all with their own dreams, relationships, complex lives, and yet we often reduce them to the one small function they perform for us.
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