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The man has no eyes, that walks down my road.
They’re hidden behind a pair of dark lenses
that seems to hide all that he has never seen before.
His smile, if any, is devoid of all happiness,
a useless pair of lips that has never known to laugh.
This faceless face walks solitary down this road while
his white shirt crackles with starch against his stiff suit,
and his busy arms lug a bulky briefcase, an inch within bursting.
He paces down my street, his shoulders bent, eyes on his shoes.
Although what makes those dark leather shoes interesting, I cannot tell.
All around him the grass grows wild, and the flowers bloom,
and the butterfly wings flutter with a passion of their own.
In my balcony, stories above, I can’t help but wonder
how he seems to ignore all that lives around him.
While they pulse and breathe with incredible life,
He, he appears to repel this force so slyly, so impassively.
And so I call down to him. He looks up with an air of annoyance.
Pleasantly I ask him where he struts so stiffly.
“I work. Meetings to attend, businesses to run. I have little time,”
he murmurs, still shuffling down the road. So I question him,
“Have you ever stopped, sir, to look around at this land you call your home?
This beautiful wonder that feeds you and gives you peace.”
He stops and scrunches his eyes,“I have, regretfully, done so.”
“And?” I ask. He looks down again and replies,
“And I learned how to tell a fool from a worthy.”