i make street lights appear on the ceiling
until we can no longer be the same

like the red of a house of bricks from childhood
like the dead rising from the pavement in the rain

*

there is an image in my head
of me lying on my back
on the ground outside the world trade center
it was 1989
and gary had told us to do that and look up
he said the building would look like it was going to fall on me

i remember visualizing it as he spoke
i remember lying there on the ground

but i can’t ever remember
what it is that i saw
what it was that took my breath away

*

what color am i, father?


*

he looked up at me from the floor
at the bottom of the stairs
briefly
before rolling away so i couldn’t see his face

i stood at the top of the stairs
hesitating
as i tried to hide all of my secrets

he couldn’t call to me
and i wouldn’t run down to him

because neither of us could admit
the distance between us.

*

he stands over me
as i drown in my sweat

he leans down and puts his hands on my legs
holding my kneel
ike a fruit

rise, he says,
walk.

and there is silence

broken
by a gasp that comes from
deep within me

what happens now

take me to 100, he says.
so i can get to 150.