You live in a city
to have people look at you
watching you sit while your spit
drips while you eat,
glances pass you down the street,
and you don’t know if it’s a glare
because you are there
or if it’s a sign,
a nod, a wink. Safety, eyes on the streets
since the nights are darker
than they once seemed. In other words,
a city lives in you to watch others
through windows, vitrines
under awnings and eaves
and there is an art to it:
behind sunglasses, sly glances,
and a longing overgrown — or,
belonging, was it?
Peeking out between those cracks
in sunset moments and dim lit concrete.
You are still looking
and we see you — yes!
Despite all this silence,
we have transpired
waiting for eyes to meet.
Darian Razdar, 2022
Darian Razdar 