looking in the mirror he thought
when he wore his checkered suit
he resembled an unfinished skyscraper.

after the disastrous meeting on the 61st floor
he skipped the elevator
and took the stairs all the way down
until he was huffing and puffing his way
onto the sidewalk.

he took off his gray checkered jacket
and let the rain sculpt his brow
and carve through his fingers.

thoughts grew lighter
with each slash of watery wind across his cheeks.

soaked on the curb,
he knew he must seem pathetic
to the sinking eyes of passersby,
but he was calm.

content to be
a soul

under construction.