Objective Observations Objectively Observed While Circumambulating My Office Building in a Most Objective Manner
I.
There is a bird foot on the sidewalk, squashed, perhaps gooey.
The rest of the bird is not my objective.
II.
Flowers bloom purple yellow white.
I do not know their genus or species.
They object to our names for them anyway.
III.
A thin, balding man runs past me with white buds in his ears.
He does not look like me though I, too, am thin and balding by any objective standard.
I hear music leaking from the man’s earholes.
I cannot say if it is Stone Temple Pilots or Bush but I know it to be one of those bands.
OK, you got me. It might be Soundgarden or Pearl Jam.
IV.
Underneath the building lies a parking garage.
Though I cannot see it, I objectively know it is there.
Though I cannot hear it, I know objectively it is there.
Though I cannot taste it, I know it objectively is there.
Though I cannot touch it, I know it is objectively there.
I can smell it.
It is there.
V.
Across the street, a young woman disembarks the bus.
She has plum-colored stockings.
The bus doors close.
She cries out.
Her lips.
Her.
VI. The sky. The sidewalk. The trees. The taxis. The window clouds. The street grass. The bird horn. The wind sign. Everything.