Clarity Poem by Ruth Walters

I sit near the dustbin,
just in front of the window.
listening to conversations, quietly,
content to remain muted
but aware that
should I speak,
I won't be heard.
.
They form fast opinions
with no firm facts,
hang their neighbours,
without compunction,
use their tongues
to tie the knots,
sip tea, eat snacks.
.
They mock lesbians,
fat people,
loud people, thespians
so Machiavellian,
plot how to punish them
fire in their eyes
and taking no prisoners.
.
They bad mouth time wasters,
paupers and pensioners,
car drivers, cyclists, even pedestrians
and just when I think that they've
ground to a halt,
they start up again,
finding more faults.
.
Sometimes they spot me,
sometimes they don't.
Mostly, I'm invisible.
I eat lunch, drink tea,
just by the dustbin, the sink,
in front of the window's light,
flooding the room with clarity.
.
.