madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prose poetry - Birthday Birthday The top of the building is barren. Barren except for stars hung like cheap lighting, except for clothespins chattering on the wire. Dark wind comes like an unfriendly hand touching me in a place I don�t want to be...leading me where I don�t want to go. Roof groans under my steps, cables uncoil, slithering around my ankles, hissing, bumping me to my bottom, dragging me closer to the edge. Panic ridden I scramble for any purchase, fingers dig into black tar, scratching for a hand hold but the building bucks. Bucks like a bronco arching its cemented back with me - the unwilled rider. Narrow ledge passes under me like a goalpost under a football sailing through nothing. There is no crowd but I hear rushing, hushing loud in my ears and in my eyes I realize star lighting isn�t lighting at all, but lightning - and I am stuck before I hit the ground. (I am hit before I struck the ground.) Grounded cold the building grins its wide archy grin and windows glare, and windows pain. And I can�t move. And now I want to take back my unspoken wish while burying my face in the heat of more candles than I thought I�d ever live to see. 2:38 p.m. - November 21, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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