A Foggy Window Poem by Phillip Liu

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.
I can see the building has a glass double door.
I can see groups of people standing in the cold
All wearing red and black.
Each person waits to hand a paper to the lady at the door.
A 17-foot light-up sign stands behind a white picket fence
Screaming in lettered squares,
Cheers that I used to know.
Cheers that resonate deep in my core.
Cheerleaders in black uniform,
Rumbling feet on wooden bleachers,
And last second buzzer beaters
All flood into my senses.
But it's not the same.
I can only wish to return to the glory days,
Those sepia toned moments with my team.
I'm not sure why I left.
My memory is foggy,
Kind of like my window.