Feel Anything Poem by george fillingham

I could ask you to turn, to see, to listen,
Hearing, maybe for the first time,
The whew of vulcanized rubber tires,
Inflated to support the weight of the Chevys,
The Fords, the Kias, Hondas, Toyotas,
All crushing, cruising, crashing on the road
Before your very eyes and ears;
Take in the shapes of the pools of rain
That quiver and streak under the breeze,
The one below the window here,
The jagged dagger-shaped decayed indention
Left from years of too much winter ice
And summer heat; the pools that catch
The twisted world, untwist, re-twist it once again
By moving, shaking, bending the mirror
On the water face even if only light;
Maybe the corner of the eye that snags
The corner of the rundown house
Where the retarded girl resides with her
Afflicted brother who smokes until he gags,
Who yells at street signs for what they say to him –
Yield, No Parking, One Way, Stop –
“Don’t you feel anything? ”