At day’s end, away from the sidewalks, the speaker remembers the faces of people who passed by in the city. Their voices had merged into the afternoon roar, covering an older, deeper silence. Now that the noise has faded, individual faces flash back to him.
He thinks especially of the lean, tired ones. In their throats and mouths he sees the marks of hope, struggle, and longing. Some mouths kiss only for love; others carry the record of great wishes held onto, prayed over, and worked for. The speaker reads these stories in the lines of mouths and throats as people pass. The mood is quiet, tender, and a little sad. There is a sense that the city can hide people’s inner lives, but a careful observer can still glimpse what they have endured and wanted. The speaker feels both distance from the crowd and a sudden, intimate understanding of strangers.