When you’re waiting at the train station,
watching people pile onto the crowded train
Not dissimilar to how ants mill about inside a damp log
You usually choose not to follow.
A face in the crowd you sometimes are, though,
Yesterday you found yourself recognized, yesterday, by
A homeless man on the train, likely looking for warmth, likely hoping
The twenty you gave him last time you saw him might make a repeat appearance.
He took no for an answer, though, for now, and now you just hope
Your face maybe stands out in the crowd a bit less.
You tell your parents when you escape crowds and trade them for privacy
Feeding homeless folks is not unlike feeding squirrels outside the train station
If you do it, they’ll start expecting it whenever they see you, and they will
Start looking for you when they don’t see you.
Better to be faceless, crowded, anonymous for now.
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