The train window

I look out o’ the window

And see birds flying,

Or may be racing,

For no reason-

None that I know of.

I can’t see their color-

Color makes for good stories;

We don’t romanticize the ugly.

I like their speed,

I like how they dive,

I like watching them take a U-turn-

Wait, were they competing then?

I look out o’ the window,

See the trees whiz past-

Pleasurably enjoying our triumph

They static, we moving,

The leaves nod at me.

I can’t see their faces-

Faces make for good stories;

We don’t attach with lifelessness.

I like their freshness,

I like how they shake,

I like the leaves not leaving the tree-

Wait, did they lose then?

I look out o’ the window,

Watch a group of urchins

Run out of mud huts-

They naked, our dresses branded;

They wave at me.

I can’t see their wealth-

Wealth makes for good stories;

We find poverty unattractive.

I like their energy,

I like how they swerve,

I like them sticking to a group-

Wait, are they poor then?