Watch, Watch
The sated faces,
the pretty faces,
weary from long walks through my city’s splendor.
They came in couples,
In rowdy packs,
Rarely
Solitary,
They hold babies by small chubby hands.
Somewhere, a righteous woman shouts through a bullhorn;
Her protest is muffled
By the stillness
Of the day.
They come
In hordes,
In herds,
Eager, curious, cranky and fractious.
It is only noon;
A thousand
Brittle little dramas are yet to be staged.
They come as an invasion, much too far
From the nearest Starbucks.