you live inside a box
and a box has no window
people see you as they pass by
and take a long glance at you
it is a glass box and you are
human inside it
and you also take a glance at them
and you smile and then the look at themselves
querulous, ' why is he living inside that glass box? '
and you ask the same question,
'why are they living in that big box
walled by air? '
and in such a decent pretension
as though they are completely free
from the reality of boxes.
who does not live inside a box?
who? if you have hands you are now
free to feel it
some boxes are walled by clouds
some by words
RIC S. BASTASA
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-boxed-life/
