Not really a poem. (Monologue.)

Its a curious thing, meeting new people. To study their face, the creases, the shadows, the shapes; to study their walk, slouched and bouncy, side to side, toes pointing in; to study their mind, how they talk and move. How they look away when they speak. How everything they do hints to who they are as a whole. When I first meet someone I instantly want to know all of their secrets. I want them to be a stranger without them actually being a stranger.