Gazing through this
telescope window, no more than
five floors above the street.
The people walk
with layers of insulation
beefing up their size.
Some buy potatoes from
a smoking garbage can,
some are hailing taxis.
Others cram double
onto electric bikes, barely
putting up the hill.
It's already dark.
Even if the smog was thinner,
or the weather warm enough for
leisure-style walking, I wonder
if they'd even think about me;
if their earthly affairs could
pause--just long enough to
acknowledge this observing outsider
pondering their way of life.
I wonder if their schedules
are ever clear enough
to weigh such a thought.