I’m on the 17th floor
It’s dark outside
I’m standing in a pair of black briefs
looking at the neon city against a dark sky
as the cars drive on bridges over the river
But mostly I catch my reflection in the glass
I can see through myself and into the city
and that awakens the poetry corners of my brain
I’m only renting this penthouse
but for many this would be the realization of a dream
Hardwood floors, marble counter tops
a grill on the balcony overlooking the river
It’s easy to picture red wine in goblets on coasters
laughter as the sun sets
lentil pasta in steel pans, fresh flowers in vases
and homegrown coffee in the morning
And the vision of all this haunts me in its way
because its all so fleeting, so temporary
Those preconceived ideas
about happiness, joy, success
Because some day, someone else would own this space
and make it theirs
and the landscape would change.
I can see through myself and into the city
and then the light flicks off
and I can’t.