I know they’re watching me
Behind cigarettes and cheap sunglasses
Watching with those halogen faded late night television eyes
Piercing amphetamine eyes
Eyes hidden but alert
But mostly I think about thought
What kinds of wheels turn behind those pairs of eyes?
Those cold and apathetic eyes
Big wheels small wheels fast wheels slow wheels
Wheels rusted and cracked
Some run fast and smooth, no doubt
Like a well oiled machine, taking it all in
Like nobody’s business
But not most,
Most just turn about, worn out
By too many years of day to day
And so I dodge their glances like bullets
Avoid their corrosive words like shrapnel
And machine-gun my eyes across the room
In hopes to keep the wolves at bay.
Artist: Cory McConnell
School: North Allegheny
This is a somewhat autobiographical poem about feeling paranoid or anxious in a crowd.