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D’you consider yourself whole or do you
like sparkling glass-clad city towers
rely on reflection to make you beautiful?
D’you believe waiting for the red light to change,
you can’t; this is it – everyday monotony
brilliantly controlled by a little green man?
D’you ever look down and notice those
who chalk the sidewalk or juggle chainsaws,
probably make more than you or I?
D’you sometimes stand in a sea of black clothing,
usual platform place, waiting to catch a seat,
and consider the possibility of pushing in?
D’you think that those who always insist
on entering first, ever look back
except to bask in their own reflection?
Frances Macaulay Forde
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