Windowful

No sky but for that reflected in the windows
of the apartment house across the way. A wall, a
low block brick-topped wall holds back the hill with its trees and
sometimes deer. Below, macadam and a storage shed, white with
red-brown posts. Someone just tacked a notice to
one of the posts; I will never know what it says, though - this view is
of
the part of the yard that I can't reach on foot, not without going out
the
front door, which I am not supposed to do. On the wall, some
red and white crates and a blue tarp. Bright sun splashes the
shed and the posted notice. I, inside looking out, look mainly at the
windows full of reflected sky, and I think about Plato's cave. What's
going on in the world? You'd never know from looking at this view,
nor, I suppose, can I know from reading the paper, that's
the shadows. I think I'd like to go to
China where everything is
upside down, and from there think about here, where everything
seen from there would seem upside down. Find out how hard it is
just to get a little
perspective.