After Falling in the Street

I fell today. Quite gloriously. The bike pitched, the handle-bars flipped, and I was bucked spread-eagle on the sidewalk of one of the busiest streets in the city right alongside a massive wall of windows.
It should have been quite hard to miss.

The creatures behind the glass didn't flinch, didn't stand, didn't move.
The creatures on the street, busy in their lives, talking to themselves or others everywhere else, walked around.
The creatures in their machines moved right on by at their impossible rate.
Everybody kept on: going and doing whatever it was they had planned to go or do.
Ever so occupied. Ever so busy.
Ever so blind.

I wonder how many people saw me sprawled on the sidewalk and thought I was taking a break? I wonder how many people saw me.

Rubbing my arms and dusting my palms and checking my bones to make sure they were all in their right place. Raising my bike and twisting its bits back in place.

Is this actually what we have become? Self-absorbed and self-driven and self-concerned? Always so occupied? Always so busy? Always so blind?

I hope if you see someone sprawled on the sidewalk along side a turned-wrong-ways bike, you don't carry on your conversation and simply walk around. I hope if you work behind a wall of glass and have the chance to see the world beyond, that you open up your mind and take a look.

I hope if you are claiming to follow some ideal or some morale or some code for living - that you fucking pay attention.

Turn the self down and turn the world back up.
I dare you.