Remarks

Remarks

Under our gaze, signs flip, Japanese to English.
Billboards break and turn, vertical blinds spun
by some inner motor.

The pockmarked sidewalk goes tear-stained,
snail-streaked in the evening, gummed paths
holding the streetlight.

Don’t think your observations go unnoticed.
See how you are marking up the room
around you, stretching

the white wall, placing the spider in the corner,
an inky thumbprint. Eyes can’t help but smudge
what is looked at long.