Breakfast poem, redux

I forgot to have my toast and Nutella (Nutella and toast) this morning
But still I had a meal
The walk over--
The world, filtered and funneled into my ears
Compressed and expanded, looped and double-tracked.
The sun shone so clear, warming the air without totally shutting out the night
The contrast, I think, is what made it so precious
The blue tendrils of smoke matched her hair and ear jewelry
As she leaned in, sighed, and expressed
The women running. The kids in their perfectly pressed casual clothes, smelling fresh and fake
Why is it that I am so captivated by those outside the system which I inhabit?
The ones who push in, support and remain invisible
While we drift by, occupied by more important thoughts

Today and every day I try to help them understand the world
In which we live
"It isn't bad," I say. "Or good. It is how it is, and it's our job to try and understand it."
But they can see through what I say. And if they can't, then I have failed. A paradox, sublime.
But I am not jaded, I am not a cynic--
I am worse. I am beginning to understand the way it works, and still refuse to reject it
"By sitting down we are sitting down."

"Eat breakfast everyday," I tell them. It's important. But when I haven't eaten mine, what right do I have?