I wonder how your mind works, like the blind man's dog on the bus.

I wonder if you think about what you do, if your actions are a well crafted design tapestried by the homosapien mind, or if you run off a hunch or initiatory instinct, adhering to guidelines taught you as a pup; a quiet, controlled mannerism that makes you adorable enough to reach out and touch.

I wonder if you remember me when I smile at you from under my bangs when your brown eyes flint at me. I wonder if you see me or the window--the world, the possibilities--beyond me. I wonder why you burrow yourself in a comfortable space, secluded from the wind of the world, far from the reaches of man.

I wonder if it's contemptment, laziness, or fear that blankets your recluse.

I wonder if you plan your moves, or if you run by the dictates of another.

I wonder what it is that's dictating you; who is your blind man?