Two people live parallel lives of quiet desperation. He goes to work, comes home, and tries to stop dreaming of a better life but can't. She stays out at night to avoid the silence of her home, promises herself she won't go back, and does. Their repeated failures to change anything give the first half a tired, circular feel.
Then the weekend arrives and the routine falls away. On Sunday, sunlight, dust and birdsong fill the day, and the beauty is almost too much to bear. Both step outside, separately, and look up. The poem suggests they feel something like peace, yet it is tainted, and the world they meet is a mix of fumes, perfume, beasts and machines. Overwhelmed again, they retreat indoors.
The mood is bleak, weary and quietly sad. The title, "Inside//Outside," fits: neither place offers relief, and the two never meet. The doubled "turned turned" reads like a stumble, a hesitation before they give up.