View From a Height

Another month in the zero trees
Looking down on well-groomed women,
And all other women for that matter,
Either class, eyes down, zooming past
Like ricochets from last night's gun.

My life is plotted backwards,
Starting at the finish
Trying to retread the soles
Of the shoes that got me here,
Into the zero trees.

Still, there is the promise of
Waking up tomorrow without
Having to rearrange my room once more.

I take meagerness in hardy gulps,
Glad that I haven't wished for more,
Knowing so well
How the fall from the ledge of a dream
Is painful.

For instance,
This morning a vengeful past
Burst through the hard gray sky
To make it clear that negotiations were in order,
Like warlords from the Mongol plains!

I laugh now!
Poor me, stuttering
Like so many lame pigeons
Huddled in the bare-bone park
Beneath the zero trees!