Your feet are competing, each jumping ahead of the other
in a calm and persistent race to the goal.
Although you aren’t particularly walking anywhere,
your eyes are more amused by the sky today
than the horizon balancing the cathedrals spire.
Clouds heavy with orange omniscience morph from
image to image and as you dream of the distance between
you and these gargantuan steam rooms,
a bird swings into your vision,
and the visual line of web you cast to the sky is snagged on its bombing body,
swinging to the right as you pass a window
with the paint peeling grey at its edges.
The bird is gone and in your eye-line are two swinging feet,
a metronome of secret happiness.
And the girl they attribute themselves to has her eyes closed
and her lungs open with happiness.
And the girl is alone
just for you,
just for your eyes,
just for this one minute flash of time
although she stays in your mind
for weeks to come.


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