Quick Glances

What do our quick glances today

Tell us about tomorrow?

There must be answers within the stealth-like glimpses

That must have something

To do with compassion or malice.

I sense most of us worry

And that is the basic reason

We’ve never formally been introduced,

Though we’re not strangers,

As we run into each other often,

Usually just standing there,

Exchanging nothing

Not a word or gesture

Before pretending to be diverted elsewhere

By some everyday distraction,

Like a pigeon swooping in on a pizza crust,

In the shade of a hearse

Bursting with flowers and the dead

Parked in front of an innocuous-looking funeral home.

Just one of many days

When fearing answers is difficult.