Window Poem (draft #2)

When I look out 

the sliding glass 

Where the missing panel has broken and 

Fallen away

I try to not look through yours 

The drapes sun bleached unwashed

The precariously perched plywood

It makes me all too curious

Of what’s hiding away

Of what’s paranoia’s play

But I see the evidence of a beaten down older man

Slumped over with a limp living low 

on the weekday slow

Flying high in deadhead hazy heights

starting at dusk on Friday nights 

In Full flight you feel alive 

And a billowing light 

Clears the sidewalks of dust and debris 

Wash away the rest to reveal the shimmering

As your friends a few doors down

Make plans to hit up the town

But you’d rather stay here

With your drapes and plywood

And washed down sidewalks

To see the dirt and debris 

Materialize in waves over the course of the week

And I’m here to watch it happen

all over again