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How many people’s paths have I crossed?

Some not as long as a short morning frost

Others you see once, and then again…never

Some come like a hurricane and sanity sever

Some can make life, simply just great!

As if sent to your life by some divine fate

I suspect that you might affect how that goes

It has something to do with the love in your heart, and how much you expose

 

“Don’t talk to strangers!” they say when you’re small

But I wonder about many “strangers”, if not collectively all

Did that white-haired old lady… once get down?

What made the lines on her face a permanent frown?

Wonder where he’s going, at 5 in the morn?

Was he part of the 1 in 4 of all internet searches for porn?

Does she cut more profit earning, lucrative deals?

Because of those stockings and stiletto high heels?

Does she aim to perplex

When she uses her sex?

Did that sweet old man stay true to his wife?

Even if he didn’t, did she have a good life?

Would that cop that eagerly put his hand on his gun

Shoot a black man who was unarmed and scared on the run?

Does the man with the Ferrari

Really feel sorry?

Is the fellow in the beat old truck, actually rich?

Even though he looks like he works in a ditch

Is that loud obnoxious guy, braggadocious on the phone

Projecting his insecurities and really alone?                 

 

Strangers could be stranglers

Or fishers of men, soul wranglers

Strangers could be dangers

Or away in a manger, humanity changers

Ponder how you affect who the “strangers” become

To add cacophony, insignificance, or a benevolent hum?

 

How do you know?

Unless you’re willing to go

To that strange moment of meeting

Try to make them your friend, I say,

…Remember life’s fleeting.