Blank Faces
There are many of us out
there.
We see buildings, homes, shops,
bars,
and high
rises, and there must be many
people there, but we meet very
few.
We sit next to people on the
bus, at a
ball game or on
the beach,
yet we do not speak, and if we do, a
strange look is
directed our way. How
many good people do we pass, yet never
meet?
– written by Chich, Chicago's Australian Poet Laureate