If I had a window, I would look out of it.
The sun's reflections on puddled concrete
would brighten my eyes.

The woman planting a kiss
would remind me of touch and spring growth
and the daily importance of clichés.

And the man with groceries
trying to cross the road to his family
would no longer escape my attention.

'Look,' I would announce,
'there is his youngest daughter, who has knelt down
to help him tie his shoelace.'