on the inside

from the street
there was only a sign
with the name of the mental
hospital
and a long stretch of narrow
bars, a fence with a gate,
that separated those inside
from those on
the outside.
the same trees grew,
the same grass was mowed
to a smooth emerald green.
it was hard to tell
the difference
at times.
who was crazy, who was sane.
who didn't talk
to themselves, who didn't
sit and wonder,
stare into the sky,
or throw bread at pigeons,
pondering what's next.
if anything. those caged
behind the bars
moved slower, easier
in their pale blue robes,
thin pajamas, you could see
that, while those on the outside
moved quickly,
purposeful, trying hard
to be busy, to stay
sane and alive, pretending
perhaps to be on the out
not the inside.