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.
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