(black-figured-rappeller on 23rd floor of Vancouver high-rise, 2nd white section from the right)
Something about nonchalantly
throwing a leg over
the top-floor guard-rail
25 stories up
creating your own story–
the hero of imagined possibility;
no one else about
to stop or question you
about the legalities of such,
inching slowly down
like Spiderman
peeping in tenants’ windows
giving them a giddy wave,
peering into their own-imagined
pseudo-private worlds;
it’s really only ego
conquering a hi-rise
like a still-life mountain,
the edginess of some lives
inviting the moment
when lines snap–
and the descender feels
an even greater rush
trying to aim where
she might land
and then walk away.