As we sit here, facing a picture
Framed
It means nothing to us
The shapes all shift into blurs
A band of starry eyed kids scream below as if they've never been hurt
People smile for a second as they forget the aching pain they've felt in their veins all day
Meanwhile a small child is crying in alley
A mud pie is being cooked in the sun for supper
Tiny knots are being pulled to create a product that will be overlooked or celebrated
Or worn in a puddle through the dirt maybe on a beach