A Foggy Window
I can feel the subtle vibrations under my seat
And hear the computerized voice say,
"Turn onto North Eshman Avenue."
While I stare at the blur outside,
The chill permeating the glass window numbs my right temple
I know what the blurs are though:
Buildings, people, a fence, a sign.
But if I set my eyes on an object for long enough,
I can see the significance of each one.