A white-hot noonday crowd blazes around me,
Their gazes intense, intrusive, unwanted.
I stop and squint, then nervously slip my
Hand inside my jacket pocket… and sigh
As my fingertips find my one defense;
A single snap of my wrist, and they spring
Into readiness. Soon my Wayfarers
Surround me, their cool demeanor blocking
The curious stares. Burned by the harsh glare
Invading my world, I relax in their
Gentle embrace; then, smug in the knowledge
That none can see me, I smile and move on.