transition

The teenager sits on the balcony

And whistles

Praying for its family to come and find it.

When they do come, the family sees not what they want,

But an ugly, broken thing

Whistling their child's song.

Transition period between winter and spring

Where the teenagers, unrecognisable

Are desperate for a warm place to sit and cry in company.

The balcony persists, through the seasons

Despite houses shredding to debris

And landscapes being morphed into giant city skylines.

Not a small moment left under the concrete.

There's a dull moment when the sun is hidden by the tw0-way tinted glass

And the teenger, untouched, glowing somehow;

Yet hurting from the inside

Considers going to the corner store and breaking their rule

About smoking and skateboarding.

Without a helmet,

They jump

Because the balcony always ushered unused underwinds into the gaps between skyscrapers

To remind them of their height.

And as they spread their fingers and grasp the fragile thrill of freedom,

Their parents watch from another office window

Illuminated slightly by the neon of a nail salon advertisement;

Between the railing the teenager slides

Parallel and direct as arrows to their targets

Observed by the ones who pushed them apart

Out, away and down.

The teenager makes it over to a lower balcony

And shares a cigarette with a stranger

Who feels the same way about the great grey ocean

Of white light halos

And impatient traffic.

They lean close,

Knowing the other is their mirror image

But without the feeling of glass between,

Only the delicacy of shared breath

And now a friend who knows the joy of falling.

~