2. The Ones Who

The ones who bear watching
are the ones who bare watching.
Skin, once seen, induces silence.
Somewhere the old Chinese sits
at his pass, bodyless, I guess,
watching us full-bodied ones
file willy-nilly through,
now in, now out,
now rosy-cheeked dawns,
now dour cloud-filled twilights.
He sees all and
as he no doubt would put it
sees nothing.
Why then does he wait at the pass?

The ones who bear watching
are the ones who barely watch.
Republicans in sages' clothing.
Their fine hair-coats may fool
the shivering naked ones,
but those who spend lifetimes
preening pelts know better:
The wind is cold and I
have miles to go before it sleets.
A wave, a smile, Old Man, is
all you get this trip.
The joke is on-
going, and you forgot the laughtracks.

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