Because of Faces

So proud are we, so cold are we,
walking briskly to our future,
in subways, terminals, and streets.

Is it that we have,
and become,
and belong?
But we know that we could
stop having to
not become and
never belong.
What is it, that would remain.

If I see your face,
and find that you are beautiful,
would it be wrong of me, to smile?