the day you

crash l and e d

on

the wrong planet,

stood,

took

two steps

, swiveled y our head

and

stopped

, stood

still, the su n w as the k i nd of

bright t h at ble aches r

a the r th an in fuse s

colour

. you shut your

eyes.

now cities spring up in your
sleep. they construct highways
curved around you, vibrant
strangers whisked away behind
tinted windows, vehicles
that glitter like insects.

they are always moving.
city to town and town
to city. they seek fame.
anonymity. adventure.
understanding. what's
the difference? they
keep moving. they are
building. glass and steel.
they reach for the stars
as the sky slowly crushes
them. they are building.
they are buildings.

they line their windowsills
with dreams. dreams are cheap.
free. dreams glimmer past you
like fish. you might chase them
if you could walk.

you feel no pain.
only a faint pressure
through your suit.

the glass keeps the world safe.
the glass keeps you safe.
the glass keeps them safe.

built to break.
high as babel and
temporary-tattooed.
initials on the wall
of a bathroom stall and
a new model to render all
obsolete.

white wings or all black?
red robes or baseball caps?
whatever gets you through
another day. if you feel alive,
you're probably doing okay.
stay out late. find a heartbeat
to listen to as you fall asleep.
or not.

the stars that shine brightest
could be hundreds thousands
millions years dead. could have
watched history and became history.
and the brightest firework sparks
vanish before touching ground, leaving
only the scent of gunpowder. and
even that will disperse into the wind
momentarily.

and maybe -
even though we build and
build and code and program
and pace from place to place
after place and elegantly
analyze - what we want
or need
or expect is something
inexplicable, unboxable, some
perfectly impossible giant
who grabs the cage we've
constructed and upturns
it, casts it to the concrete with
a laugh or a roar or a kind
smile, so that we may
emerge from out cocoons,
our panoramic sky-snow
globe-scene (because standing
in a field, with arms outstretched,
can be less lonely than in a
crowd) just in time to escape.
maybe we want to
fall
into the sky and
feel
the heat of the sun
against the wings we never
knew we had.