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18 November 2008 @ 02:00 pm
Poem: As You Fall  
The rain is a treble background
to the deep irregular bass of tires pounding on the streets
and the crescendoing horns.

You have to crane your neck to see the narrow path
that winds through the stacks
all greys and hard browns in the wet.

But the glass stops your view,
and the tiny sliver of street that is your reward
is just sidewalk, iron, and mangled potted plants.
And so you sit, your neck slowly cramping,
staring at the tiny, empty expanse
and waiting for someone with a red umbrella to walk by.

What are you waiting for?
For the puddles to clear. For footsteps. For sunshine.
For blooms and the sound of knocking. For a view.