And there is sitting on a roof
When all you can do
All you can stand
Is to squeeze your body
Through a small window
Even half way
Enough to scream
But with some prying
And wriggling
You can be sitting
On the roof
At three a.m.
In your undies
With the temperature near twenty-five
And the cool rush
Is just enough
To make you feel like a bird
On a perch
On top of your nest
In the center of your world
And the veiny branches
Sharing water with that world
And that greedy atmosphere
Just sucking it up
And a balance is struck
Between what is the life blood of all organisms
And the infrastructure that moves it all along
And you can look at that
And want to destroy that
And beat it to a wet pulp
A soggy messy pulp
Just to show
That it has no meaning
When this is what sitting on the roof means
There is sitting on the roof
And there is sitting on the roof
--
1.10.12
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