Pocket walking

I always thought walking, hands in pockets, was somehow rude. Crossing G Street near Metro Center, a couple of blue suits, white shirts and red ties, potbellies spilling over leather belts tucked under, hands shoved in pockets. Then, I turn and see a couple of hipsters, he and she in jeans, khaki colored jackets, T-shirts, left hand in pocket and right hand on the backpack, carried one-sided. No wonder when I find myself paused at the corner, waiting for the light to turn, my hand is drawn to my pocket, even when I haven't one. No wonder it's hard to break the habit.