Today's prompt is to write a poem with very long lines.
The pastime of observing people as they proceed about their business without knowing that they are being observed is one that compels and fascinates.
People do odd things.
People pick their nose, scratch their crotch, fart, burp quietly or loudly, some sneeze without concern for the spit and snot and they are spraying over anyone nearby.
People can be unpleasant.
A woman can walk along the street and never once get her stiletto heel stuck in one of the cracks between the paving stones and keep her balance whilst swerving round the drunken man.
People can be harsh.
A man can walk from his train to his office and never once realise that the three different people sat, genderless on the cold ground, empty coffee cup importuning for change, are people as well.
People.
(c) 2ndwitch, 27/04/16
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