Is It Me?

Should I be more conscious
of the rough brick pressing up
against my back?
Is my insignificance rooted
solely in the pavement of
downtown Corvallis?
Warm hello's can't pierce such
chilled oregonian skin
enough to provoke a response,
a nod in return.

Is it me that needs to be
more mindful of the ground
I look up from?

This poem is about: 
Our world
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