Taking Off
By David Lawrence

The buildings around me are flying.
The clouds in the concrete float.
And there is rain in your windows.
I look in and see a big eye
crying.
Is that the sunset behind your shoulder
or a lamp?
You used to let me read the books
you were writing
through the back of your head.
Now you are part of the exodus
of skyscrapers,
the city moving to another dumping
ground,
your eyelashes closing like a dead bird.

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