Casey Gilfillan

Look outside and it is the same limited
View from the window in my room. It
Encases the static mundanity
With interchangeable details but a
Picture that never changes. Look out and
You will see it, the black top and some cars.

Sometimes it is these cars and other times
It is those cars, but they are all about
The same colors and in about the same
Spots. Lifeless, waiting for the return of
Their driver, as they gape aimlessly into
My bedroom window. Look out and you will
Hear the voices, look away and they will stop.

The asphalt is so unsightly, look outside
When the sun is high and tell me what you see.
The blazing heat is tangible, so
Palpable upon the hue of the terrain
That the black looks gray, drained. Look upon it
And your eyes will fall dull, look upon it
And be subdued into willful forfeit.

The picture never changes; it is always
There and housing the scene that unfolds the
Same with nuance that distinguishes none.
Different actors wearing different
Clothes and driving different cars, they say
Different words and take different strides;
They buy different coffees, linger differently.
But they leave, or they stay, and the picture
Stays the same. Look outside, you can see.