It started close to sunbreak on a Monday,
when a woman on Washington
unhinged the East facing wall of our building.
The wall trumpeted against the asphalt,
sent river wind through the cubicles
to tussle us desk junkies down to the ground.
We all leapt from our levels and skipped
barefoot, loose in the streets.
This inspired a few taciturn transit riders
to pull out the cotton in their ears,
step down from their bus seats
and let the tired iron wheels roll free.
Just down the block
a kindergarten teacher put down her weapons,
surrendered her students to a lesson in seduction;
she taught them how to peel up hot asphalt
and carpet-roll her supine body into the street.
By this time
we had uncovered the keystone in our skyscraper,
formed a chain of nine-to-fivers to pull it free.
As the tower fell
for the first time everyone stopped what they were doing
to listen to the way the glass sings as it dies,
and metal finally let out it weary sigh.
We did nothing as a mother of four took her willing children with
her and stepped off the sidewalk's end.
it was a penny pincher who broke the silence,
dropped the first dime smile into the blind man's can that sent
the construction worker's hard hats high in the air
as we all broke out in applause to commend their escape.
But it ain't a good show if it don't leave you Hungry for more.
So we rushed around town,
pulled free every keystone ever cut,
gave our last and greatest commands as monarchs of this
paradise
by returning all we'd plundered,
threw crumpled dollars over our shoulders like bread crumbs
to remind us that we never
wanted to come back.
We watched as those incapable of change
readily let their Death grip on life loose
instead of risk the urge to rebuild.
Along with centuries of industry, their bodies crumpled back to
earth.
Now we're somersaulting towards the Sunset,
a mountain of urban ash at our backs,
and you may find this too cliche to be true,
but this riot and I,
we're no longer willing to live in a world
where we can't even
imagine this.
