— a generation of dancers

“a very close friendship and never had spouses, instead choosing to live together until they eventually passed away.” 

I planted myself on the cold grey concrete of a window ledge,

My eyes narrowing beadily as I clamped my jaw shut.

Today I was going to be as forgiving as the wind biting at my feathers.

Salt stings my glazed over eyes and rain whips the down on my chest,

Before its silent terror slams into the glass.

Bright green eyes widen from the other side,

A clear sign of prey,

Does Green Eyes fear my presence? Will they come

to the glass to throw food into the wind, hoping that it gets to me?

I stare back.

Food doesn’t seem to be an option from them,

Maybe I can steal into the house, steal bread as if its diamonds,

Like I’m a trained spy.

Or maybe he could let me in,

A lord of nature, of life itself.

Lay down a carpet, for the wind to walk me down,

The swell to whisk me into a slow dance,

A current creeping up to ask for a foxtrot,

Green eyes snap shut and feet stomp and arms wave and “shoo!”

And I’m gone.

A high whistle in my head

Echoing the scream of my voice.

Did they not want me?

i’m somewhere i didn’t think 

i would have been last year

in a chair, i didn’t bring scissors.

the floor is swamped, no-where for feet

to step unbothered, around the mess.

i had been hunting a tan,