The Soul's Window So Often Shuttered

I force eye contact on the people I deal with here in the Midwest.
Though I know they'd prefer my glance went elsewhere.
Being careful to avoid their private "dirty bits."
And I have the disconcerting habit of winking at the end of sentences, merely facial punctuation.
Already that has been interpreted as a "come on" from a horrible little psycho we called "Goose Girl,"
That, for her unsolicited daily briefs on the health and well being of the geese in her neighborhood,
In her neighborhood. There in her neighborhood,
And the Goose Girl is a person in your neighborhood.
She's the people that you meet, when you're walking down the street.
Creepy people that you meet each day.