EYES DOWN

Owain 

I passed a dozen people on the street today, or perhaps not.
Are we ever really us, when confined to a half-glance, an awkward side-step?
As if to connect our eyes would pluck them out, and leave us blind
To those we care for, those rare few we cling to in the rush?
Excuse, I mutter. Pardon, she whispers. We are windup dolls –
Says five whole phrases. Buy for your child today!
Out in the madding crowd, we all stand before a judge, and the jury of all,
Eight Billion Angry Men, who weigh each twitch and flicker
Of thought on the scales of decency, of decorum, of the Done Thing.
Better never to have a tongue than to lose it.