You Would Think . . .

You would think that--after
These many years on Earth--
My inhibitions would have loosened up.
Some relaxation has occurred,
But the critical skill of carnival barkers,
Mountebanks, and PR specialists
Eludes me, namely:
A method of breaking the silence between
The Stranger and cowardly me.
It is counter-instinctive, a violation
Of native security,
A sundering of castle walls,
A skirmish with enemy infantry,
A presupposition of "do unto others."
"Howdy, neighbor!" the passerby says;
But is he my neighbor? I can’t tell.
The neighbors I know are quiet types
Who (like me) slink past windows and doors
Evading detection, as if they're guilty
Of scurrilous acts.
If only I could attune my wits
To all these assorted emanations
And decode their hard-to-decipher buzz,
This stiff remoteness might be reduced.