Three short lines, and a whole scene: a street at midday, bright and exposed, filled with people talking. The speaker doesn't join in. They simply notice "the many pretty discourses / in public," and that quiet distance is where the poem lives.
The word "pretty" is the key. It can mean charming, but here it also hints at something polished and a little hollow, talk that sounds nice and is performed for whoever might be listening. The title, "Wired," adds to this. It could suggest phones and earpieces, people talking to someone who isn't there, or it could suggest being tense, buzzing, plugged into something. Judging by the imagery, the poem leans toward a modern, connected world where private conversation spills into public space.
The mood is cool and observant, with a faint note of irony. The speaker seems neither angry nor delighted, just watching, slightly apart, and leaving us to decide whether all that talk is lovely or empty.