Um. What? Ok!

Slow,

Like the rise of fluster in the head,

As the night seems never to yield the sun,

Dominion over us again,

And we aren't sure of which we want,

The blurred hum of fluorescents,

Or air so clean and cold it burns our noses,

Moving from one yellow room to the next,

The paint and the people swallowing,

Every last neuron I need to decide right now,

I breathe faster,

Blink slower, more emphatically....

Out on the brick stoop,

I'm waiting to get my bearings,

And you with the same fragile agility,

Sit up on the railing,

And this is the closest I will ever be....

Now standing up,

The breeze carrying down the street,

I am in the middle,

You are watching but not that it matters,

My hands spread wide,

Eyes up, waiting.

'Hello' is all I think in this communion,

As a high drum beat cracks in time and it all moves again.