Filters
Relatively unfiltered,
I ride the rails back home
without any music or
phone scrolling.
Instead, I observe.
To my right.
Headphones secured,
his eyes scan faces on the train,
through his own filtered lens.
Pumping beats color the world
a certain way.
I know from experience.
To my left.
She pops in her white earbuds
bobbing her head and
looking out the window.
I wonder what they're thinking about.
We all have our own filters
through which we view
the world.
Maybe it just takes
asking to borrow their filtered lenses
for us to understand
a little
more about our world.
I ride the rails back home
without any music or
phone scrolling.
Instead, I observe.
To my right.
Headphones secured,
his eyes scan faces on the train,
through his own filtered lens.
Pumping beats color the world
a certain way.
I know from experience.
To my left.
She pops in her white earbuds
bobbing her head and
looking out the window.
I wonder what they're thinking about.
We all have our own filters
through which we view
the world.
Maybe it just takes
asking to borrow their filtered lenses
for us to understand
a little
more about our world.
I love posts like this, where slices are written about people watching! Living in rural Iowa, there's not much variety in the people we see.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the observant slice! :)
Amazing voice and imagery in your poem. I'm sure that riding the train gives you ample material to write about!
ReplyDelete