We watch you go by

night after night

never seeing us

and we wonder

at your secret life

that could have taught you so well

how not to see others

a skill much desired by us

that we've never been able to master

caught instead, in our life

in a flood of never ending perceptions, thoughts, and feelings

ceaseless, without end

seeming to start from a time when as a youth

we rode a bike with failing brakes downhill towards a busy street.

We would've drug our shoes on the sidewalk

as a way to stop ourselves

if we'd been wearing shoes

but we weren't

so we did the next best thing (or so we thought at the time)

and stuck our big toe which had an overgrown nail to the sidewalk

shortening the nail considerably by and by

and leaving a red trail behind the bike

but, by God, we got that bike stopped.

But what we didn't know was that

it would be the last time

we would ever manage to stop ourselves

 in a life that became a comic misadventure

in trying to put a brake

on the flood of our feelings, thoughts, and perceptions

but only, time after time

yanking on emergency brakes

that came off in our hands

stepping on brake pedals with both feet

and watching them drop to the floor without effect

except to leave our mouths hanging open in dull surprise

just before we crashed headlong once again

into another solid wall of confusion and misunderstanding.

What is it about your secret life

that taught you where the working brakes are?

I would ask you but I'm afraid if I spoke to you

you wouldn't hear me as well as not see me

and it seems easier

to simply keep my big toes safely up in the air

and not try and draw a red line across your path

until you've spoken to me

seen me

known something of me

melodramatic to the end

no matter what I do with my big toes.

Do you understand now why I smile so

and look up so expectantly

every time you pass by not seeing me?