Why are they staring at me? What do they think?
That I’m an important person, dressed in denim not mink.
Do they think I am modestly avoiding great fame?
Slumming, walking incognito, not using my name?
Do I look familiar? Someone impressive they’ve seen,
Most likely I look like some big shot from the scene?
And now they’re laughing, directly at me,
Ah! what a relief! it’s the one behind that they see!
Comments about this poem (Famous Stare by Alan Bruce Thompson )
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