there are things worse than death. death is a release. A culmination
of things, of who you were. i come here to think
of all the things i can be thankful for.

the low lights are drowning the stars tonight.
they push them deeper into the heavens
like a fetus refused its way out.

a plane flies by where birds used to flock.
the sound of sirens and construction
pounding and clicking is acceptable tonight. i can talk to you

and not feel awkward. the crane rotates next to me.
i've never seen one of those when i was young.
workers carry on, laboring for minimum.

the gusts of wind blankets me with a chill. i embrace it.
the freedom of the wind. not knowing where it comes from or where it goes.
it could be you.