A man on the steps,
sits most days when I pass,
untamed, wirey, graying hairs,
a shy smile, a nod, or a wave.
Sometimes a book by his side,
sometimes one cat,
straying further from his side than the book,
as cats are prone to stray and books are not.
Binoculars in his hand.
Hey man, what do you see through your binoculars?
What do you see with your binoculars?
Oh, I know about the trees and squirrels and birds,
I'm sure they look different through binoculars.
But what do you see when you look at me?
What do you see that I don't?