And now I imagine

myself, turning the world

upside-down,

my greatest solo movement,

tranquil for split seconds

in the heights of adrenaline.

 

Rising into the fall

of the light-swept streets,

the same shattering glass and

shorn steel ascending past

from the iridescent pulsing

of soft multicolor.

The radiating paint;

every shade of the fractured rainbow

slicing through the night-turned-day.

 

Unyielding, solid concrete and stone

rushing at my fragile eyes;

streaming slight droplets of the

faintest water,

my tears to my fall

slow as a rocket to light itself.

 

The wind, trailing through

my wisps to cushion

the burden of my form

through the weightless air.

 

So bright, the lights are,

the only sign of my fall

is the absence of the winking light.

 

Among the warm embrace

of the bittersweet neon

the minisculity of my being

makes itself prominent

in its invisibility.