sometimes i wonder

which is worse;
wandering around
looking at the out-
side of people or
their insides -
who they are
in deed and
thought and
action - i
sometimes
wonder if
people see
me or if their
eyes only see
through me
like glass
ahead of my
class a year
or two i was
looked at and
seen from the
outside,
mostly,
inside
a house,
a home,
an abode,
simply,
alone,
happy,
content,
writing
sometimes
on pieces
of scrap paper
that blow away
in the cold mid-
west january wind,
winding through
my mind and i
see outlines
of time on
the hori-
zon zone
of not
zen but
Jesus,
the Son
coming home.

sometimes i wonder
and then i remember
and my heart is at
peace and i slumber
while being ready
at a moment's not-
ice.