He puts his trophies in
Parks and the neighbors yard
Like the world is his

And feeds pebbles to pigeons
He does not know his transgressions

He dresses in orange with polka dot pants and snake boots
And is Happy
Free from thin panes of ego and never having to worry about Windex

At night
It is day
They are same to him, just like radio and t.v.
He gets tired one way or the other
Time is a concept we see

His vision is x-ray
And not only does he see through
          you
but everything

He is blind
But we are the one's
Missing things