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Voyeur At A Distance From Stranger




He gave her a look
that she would not accept
even had she been aware of it.
It was free to look,
if frowned upon.
He looked at her.
His life, small as it was,
shrank again.
He was free
and didn't want to be.
She didn't matter.
She wouldn't want to matter.
But she was something to look at.
Sometimes the hardest things
are the easiest to let go of.
Laughter is compassion
for the hopeless position of the self.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.