A half dozen strange faces,
Looking away into nothingness,
Avoiding one another,
Held in a communal silence.
Who are you, dressed in pink,
On the way to school I presume.
With a backpack upon your shoulders,
What might you be studying?
Behind the face of twenty,
How many years have you known?
How many tempers thrown,
How many hearts broken?
In all fairness, you might be thinking that of me.
A man of twenties, people watching.
What is he writing, scribbling on a notebook?
What plays within that headphones that nests against his ears?
Who are you looking at?
Who am I pondering about?
A chance meeting in a strange place,
Strangers still we will leave.
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