faces
you see them everywhere
behind each one
a past with filled-in cracks
some can’t be filled, though
shows through hair, eyes, fingernails
you never think of
the random passer-by
seen, once, then disappears,
into obscurity
not 2-D, but 3-D
not fake, but real
too much to grasp
try to fathom
a million different lives
two hundred different cultures
you’ll fail
as sure as the wind blows
(as it blows, we forget
the person who just passed by)
