Rooftops at 7:30 p.m.


One year from now ..

I may be on a bridge-
Running shirtless
Down the Pacific coastline-
Reeling the bait
From a cold slap of reality
That leaped from dry ice-

Now,
On the 10th day of a
Kansas City month,
The sun settles over urban terraces
And the rooftops that hide bank clocks.

Plastic is covered,
Salad on the floor.

Just cooked a griddle of Worcestershire eggs-

Risen enough to look over the rooftops,
Time stands guilty.

I have the ground
Right where I want it.