I'm driving past faces
of stern-looking women
I say stern-looking because I don't know their hearts
I'm just a passenger
In a car moving too slow
As it goes by these rows of cluttered, dry lawns
There was a man in the market
A man laughing in the market
Such a smile as I never have seen
I wanted to ask him
Just why he was so happy
If happiness was even what that had been
I cannot say that I knew these people
All I had were glimpses as I went on by
Still I think they must have felt something
Or if not they at least seemed to try


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