It comes back to me as recollections
of battering light from the rearview mirror.
They travel in something that reminds
me of the way you write when you agree.
They told me I could describe it best with untouching rhetoric,
but my doubt measures something like my breath.
I thought of this until I heard them call my name.
When I have mistaken it for something great, they were
only shouting numbers at the glowing screen.
I stood there, blind.
Untouched,
and unmistaken for something lesser in light.