Faces pass, are passing by, with
features I don’t recognize as
well as I would with better-focused eyes.
What is a face but an arrangement of parts,
in a medium that seems not still to stir my heart?
Faces become nothing more to me now.
A smile there is all I see,
there a jaw or cheekbone or a wrinkled nose,
and other sundry pieces of debris.
What is a face but an arrangement of parts,
and other sundry pieces of debris,
features I don’t recognize as
people?
Faces pass, are passing by, with
there a jaw or cheekbone or a wrinkled nose.
Faces become nothing more to me now.
People?