Great gusts of wind rattle the windows,
howling, howling,
I sit at my desk,
and peer out my window:
A lit door in a
driveway, I see it through dancing
twigs through black of night:
the house of my neighbor
He comes to the door in a grey robe, opens it,
his sniffle echoes to my window,
an orange cat runs out,
skitters with soft paws across the cold pavement out of the spotlight-streetlight, behind a
dumpster,
The wind, the wind,
it's shaking my building,
it's whipping the belt of his robe.
I close my eyes.
I open my eyes.
City Hall: white steeple, gold dome,
City Hall is illuminated purple out the window,
out the window:
streetlights, lit windows, dancing trees,
I focus my eyes, see myself.
I look angry.
Sound of a siren,
I look down,
back,
in the driveway,
blue and red lights,
a squadcar is parked.
I can't do this, I think.
I'm tired.
My building shudders in the wind,
don't want to say too much,
don't want to say
too little.