i watch you walking
as I sip
my morning tea

what’s your story?
i see your glory
as you walk down the street

i am honored
to behold your presence
as I watch you from afar

you are gods in motion
i can see you
behind the scars

©2016janetaylor

Wander from Argyle Street towards the pyramid shaped monolith
past the oddly named Benny Hamish - Sicilian Couture Tailors -
through the automatic glass doors of persuasion
up the revolving stairs of many stairs
sail by the portly security guard
(who looks like he'd be out of breath after a 10 yard dash)
along the imitation marble airstrip
passed neon facades and signs for proactive self indulgence
toward the carousel of smoked-mirror lifts
that take the well heeled to their desired destinations
without having to worry about their Chanel leather clutch bag
and newly purchased Christian Louboutin shoes

and I sit people watching,
writing this poem on a borrowed napkin
with a discarded betting shop pen

amid a horde of timid stomachs and twitching wallets
faced with a thousand fast food offerings
and gaudy coloured tables and chairs
littered in the remnants of repugnant non-ecological eateries
and Styrofoam cups and re-composite cutlery
under Noah's grotesquely beautiful steel ark
lined in industrial tubing and chrysalis shaped netting
and giant Art Deco toothbrushes
and 30 foot wiggly mirrors
and stretched rhombus sails
acting as a blanket barrier
to the blue skies and arched sun of the outside world
somewhere between
KFC and Burger King.

You ain't gotta lie
You ain't gotta try so hard
You don't have to flex to impress me
Be real and cool and maybe we'll vibe

You ain't gotta lie all we have to do is chill out and vibe sit around smoke an L lay back listen to music I'm allergic to ******* come at me with it I split like a banana I know that's random but I'm proving a point you don't have to lie to get in the joint


You ain't gotta lie
You ain't gotta try so hard
You don't have to flex to impress me
Be real and cool and maybe we'll vibe


You ain't gotta lie mom's said there'll be days when you question everything in your head she said those were the days when you find out who's gonna be real and ride with you until you're dead life ain't all about chasing that cake and making bread we're all gonna be in the same grave six feet deep permanently asleep so you don't gotta flex like a young dude about to have ***

You ain't gotta lie
You ain't gotta try so hard
You don't have to flex to impress me
Be real and cool and maybe we'll vibe

You ain't gotta lie I can't talk to a mattress I'd rather speak in a surreality to a canvas plant this seed in the soil of your mind
That all the loudest cans are the emptiest inside so that same logic applies to all of humankind

I wish people would listen.
Wish they'd pay attention to my words.
But people are so selfish sometimes.
I know all they see is their woe.

It's annoying, at least.
I wish they would hear.
I'm shouting as loud as I can,
But nobody's there.

I feel like a child
Having a tantrum at the mall.
Except this time,
Nobody seems to care at all.

So I resort to watching as they walk to and fro.
And I wish they would notice,
For even a mo.

Isn't it funny
how you can see into a person’s life
from just one glance?
watching people
in their own little world
as they go through life’s set goal

Watching someone glance at their watch
immediately knowing
they are late
or seeing a person’s hand tighten against another’s
acknowledging that they are lovers,
completely and totally in love

Maybe witnessing an elderly woman
playing with a complete stranger of a little boy
instantly realizing,
her baby boy never grew up
but died at the age of 2;
she’s remembering him through this little boy

These are the little things in life
I have come to love,
seeing into people’s lives
through their insignificant gestures

People are so perplexing
and I would like to get to know each and every one of them
hear their stories
and be apart of their world
their own story,
their own little novel

I stand out of sight.

Head bent, he checks an email
one step out of line,
easily corrected. Casually on his way
like he does it all the time.

Shameless, fearless,
head held high
Sweatpants and a purse, strange country
just passing by

I know you, and you know
my name. She is new to me
but you both look the same
then you disappear before I really see

Faces familiar and not
strangers, friends, people
Who do not see me watching.
I stay back, for I don't want to be seen.

They paint the sky in patchwork
almost every morning.
Not a single glance amongt them as fine white dust, an almost fog, seeps through the grates. Whispers from long lost tunnels deep below the city.

Laughter and frustrated cat calls fill the scattered streets, mingling together raw. There's people huddled in corners and alleys yet the city of love feels lonelier than ever.

Scent of a woman meets scent of the gutter, and somehow remains unscathed. They flood the streets straight from the Seine, cobblestone waterfalls run wild and tall.

As for the men,
All the rumours were true,
But I'll try another one
Just to make sure.