I frequent the streets that lead up to the square
where a motley of men congregate
to speak their minds
but never their hearts.
Here is where it began
Climb up, climb up!
The rusty steps of the fire escape ladder
(Ten thousand)
A twist and a turn
(Nine thousand and ninety-nine)
A flurry of plumeria leaves and tobacco
(Nine thousand and ninety-eight)
A tentative smile
(Get a grip)
Milk on your shirt
(Before you slip)
Stains on our sleeves
(Nine thousand and ninety-seven)
The park and everything in between
(Nine thousand and ninety-six)
The parts of our skin we should never have seen
(Nine thousand and ninety-five)
I'd rather
dangle my two feet over the tarmac
than deal with the weight of the morning after.
