Looking Up, Looking Out

My neck hurts

And I can’t find a way to sleep...

So I find myself again in front of a window

Wishing I could look up and see the stars

Burned deep into my memory.

But instead I find myself

Looking out into windows

Through windows and windows again.

Glimpses of the world swim by.

In glints off metal edges,

Their glares distorting visions

Of water tower utopias.

A world where roof tops are stand in's

For open fields and fire escapes

Are simply stairs to a better place.

I look at these cement cloud structures

And wonder what we'll make of

Our newly fabricated nature.

What animal,

What object,

What thing,

Will they become?

But I think I always knew the meaning of the sky

wouldn’t hold up in it's fight against time.

It's only a matter of moments before

We proclaim "that's mine" and try to touch it.

So now I read these shots of light

Rickashaying off window panes

like they are words in a diary.

If it means anything these sparks

don’t read like they used to.

The movement and motion distort

the dance of rooftop grass and skyway stair summits.

Their brilliance dulled by the slashing of steal and sound.

If only the sky were made of glass

And were something you could look through.