People say I’m rising.
Every time they clap,
line up, ask me to write my name
I remember this plastic bag I saw blowing across the park
back in New York when you and I missed one another by a minute.
Remember? I waited for you all day in a café
watching out a window
terrified you might pass and somehow
I wouldn’t see.
At night I think back, wonder if I jinxed us by being scared
or if I let the devil in when out of kindness
I turned to speak to that man
who wouldn’t leave me be.
I never saw you
just that red bag and
thought it was like me without you
beautiful to look at, ethereal even,
soaring, riding breezes, carefree,
but heading nowhere fast
an iron gate
a sharpened picket fence.
It was inflated
full of wind
full of everything that doesn’t matter
full of nothing.
I watched that hollow thing dance
until it was a red speck on the horizon
It could have been the morning star,
but I knew that it wasn’t.
It was a bit of trash
a jot of mundanity
an empty thing playing at being