All the people pass me by
Traveling, conversing together
Engrossed in their own lives
No-One taking notice of me
As he’s walking down the street
The man with the crazy eyebrows
Looks at me but through me as he
Walks down the street mumbling
The girl with the transparent face
Is consumed by her primary goal
She sees only that which is in her path
I’m rendered invisible in her eyes
The vehicles working the asphalt
Their petrol exhaust sharply contrasting
With their shiny shiny paint jobs
Sleekly passing and not yielding to me
All the busy busy bodies keeping going
And doing, and doing what it is that they do
Perhaps on occasion stopping, looking
But usually not at me
It matters not a whit whether
They notice me, my noticing
It’s magic of the fairy-godmother sort
I am here to take notes at all
