Eight Floors Up


The view from here is nothing special

the sun is not setting

nor rising, in fact

there is no sun at all in this stone sky

where does the sun go on these days?


I watch the world pass by

beneath my dangling feet

I feel the breeze on my back

soft caresses, gentle urging

I imagine myself as that man below

his hat cocked slightly to one side

he has panache

I never could wear a hat


so many cars seeping along like molasses

if the city were a heart it would have stopped

I try to send a message through the damp air

begging each driver to prise their hands

from their steering wheels

from their own throats

begging them to unlock their seat belts

to lift their feet from accelerators, from brakes

to open their doors

to choose a direction and to walk

and keep walking

until their lungs burn and their soles blister


I am a gargoyle made of electricity and heartbeats

perched on the edge of this building

about to fall

or to fly

they do not see me

they do not look up



I didn’t hear her on the stairs last night

or tiptoeing behind me

long after bedtime

I sensed her presence over my shoulder

and whispered her name

she ran to me then

arms out and diamonds pouring from her eyes

I took her and she lay upon my chest

I hoped my heart might calm her

as my words could not


we sat there until her breathing slowed

we hummed the same song

low and slow and swayed together, still, nearly still

she told me that she missed the olden days

she missed the olden days already

she told me that she didn’t want things to change

we hummed again, her legs dangling in the silence


I told her that change is the wind

always there, sometimes wild

sometimes warm and kind


I told her that it might blow us over

now and then

but that’s okay

more silence

an easy silence, warm and kind

she asked then, in the hush

if we might buy a kite someday

I said yes



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