Urban Smiles
You and I are those interesting people
On the train to somewhere;
Looking away behind darkest lens
Not wanting to be seen staring
At the tattered coattails,
Or the fabricated jewels,
Or the green-streaked hair of youth
Determined to be noticed.
You belong in your cashmere cloak
And doe-skin gloves,
Your hair blonde and perfectly combed.
Where are you going with your vacant eyes
Behind your urban smile?
As you get up to leave,
I notice a growing tear in your coat,
And our private smiles collide
In the chilled, morning air.
~Lynne A.B. Bennett