"this is what it's like to really be alive",
says the girl, a black dove placed
serenly above everything else,
on this Chicago skyscraper.
she's holding a rose over the edge,
and pulling off petals,
one by one, letting them
fly into the crowds below,
like some forever-game of
'he loves me not.'
the whole city burns behind us
and in our eyes.
i don't bother to stretch out a hand.
"it's not as if i want to die", she says.
and she smiles the way she did when i
met her a hundred years ago.
"i just want to fall.
what happens after, i don't know."
we're the whole world while she
pulls off the last petal, and lets it
disappear, blown off into a starless night.
"if you could fall forever, wouldn't you?"