building

the chimes clink
like my heart-beat
faintly ringing, a little to the left
it seems the world has crossed
to the other side of the street

here, to the lee of the building
which spreads shadow across the grass
I am sitting in the lee of things
as tall as that, as wide as that
I would like to block the sun
but I am much less sturdy
am not pressed stucco
so I gutter and gently fall
am carried, listless
to the side of things

less than a crow
who flies, too much to be leaf
scattered
I can only, find my way to the gutter
I must sit—do not light
I am not falling or flying
I am not blown—the wind is chill
passing over me