Obtuse

I walk the sidewalks of the city.
A man bumps my arm as he passes.
He continues onward, unapologetically.
I turn annoyed, “Why do these things always happen to me?
He does not see.

I am late.

I pick up my pace.
I rush along.
Oblivious to all around me.
I think only of my destination.

I am oblivious to all around me.

I join them in this endeavor.
Those folks who push and shove.
We elbow our way along.
I am obtuse to all about me.
I know only my destination.

We are late; I am late.

We pick up my pace.
I do not see.
I cannot see.
The cityscape, nor its occupants.
I am obtuse to everything, to everyone.
—Robert Confiant 30 April 2016 (mod 24 March 2018)

 

 

 

 

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