Something about nonchalantly
throwing a leg over
the top of 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 high-rise
like a still-life mountain
when a line snaps/
and the descender feels
an even greater rush
trying to aim where
she might land
and then walk away
intact.