I find it difficult to notice sights,
although I’m not as senseless as the folk
I walk among. Perhaps it’s youth’s delights
distracting, but I often yearn to poke
a back or interrupt a gaze at phone
with “Pay attention,” not barked stridently
but low, suggesting in a placid tone
a dozen miracles to hear and see.
A padlock turns its back and grabs my eye.
A light inside I didn’t mark before
(I think) commands my consciousness to try
to collate ambience and gather more.
But even so, on streets I often tread,
I fail to note black wires overhead.
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