Class

*class*
The faces of the gathered
Strung with different string
Some puppets cast out smiles
Others send forth frowns
And some are blank
Tired and snoozing character they lose
And we two who travel close
Our journey ever onward
Watching those others gathered
What do the gathered see
What do they make of us
Are we stereotypical or rare
Thought of as jolly or full of despair
Are we peasants in their minds
Or ranked beside the most aristocratic blood
When we speak do they sigh in joy
Or turn about in fright
Having heard such an accent before
In the mouths of tenement children
Swearing this and goddamning that
Do they reconsider
Into which social rank we should fall
Consider their prejudices
And decide that after all
Such words should not the cultured ear infect.