connecting*the*dots

people walk by…
i can see into their souls
lost
tragic
corrupt
whole
each meanders by without an end
none strangers by classification
all on the mend
i watch her take his hand
guiding it to her heart
distractions set the mood to folly
a moment to save like rollie
fingers on her chest
tapping the ivory to the beat
radiating heat
one would say it’s obvious
the next would say discrete
who am i but the observer on the street