Early morning

from my window. I see passers by
and their
anxiety filled faces
bulging tummies
with showy coats of marked-up
retailed cloth

in a trestle of movement, an
overlap of cars, trucks
belching past neighbours
on their way to some
necessary activity.

Behind this wall I inhale
their existence, watch living standards
and record any harmful looks
thrown my way. Their

eyes cannot understand
my wounds, my desire to get out on
the sidewalk and join them.

© Richard L. Provencher