Why do we look at what we look at when we think?
Most of us don’t diddle with an empty middle distance.
We allot our thoughts to mildly tended plots – small spaces,
navigably circumscribed, whose unsurprising contents eyes
insensibly can colonize. On subway rides, this may mean
noting sizes of the fonts in advertisements, focusing on
“take the next express to your success,” or contemplating
artificial teeth: posters for cosmetic dentistry can offer a release.
The mind therein can softly, safely spin: thoughts corralled
like lambs beyond the brink of whose enclosure wolves
are known to roam. Perhaps we think best in the confinesof what we imagine for a moment we inhabit like a home.