I watched a man
washing windows today.
I watched him until all I could see was the rope he had
carefully tied around his waist,
swaying in the wind.
I kept watching him as I sat on the 26th floor.
He stepped inside for a break
and a Coke.
He put a lot of faith in that rope,
to dangle his body over traffic
from the 26th floor.
I was glad it wasn’t me,
hanging onto that rope,
putting faith in a large string made of
a lot of little strings,
tied around my waist.
Then again,
I flirt with danger of my own.
Wearing capries in the middle of
November.
Putting my faith in humankind,
being almost positive
that I made the right choice
in clothing  for the day.
That I was appropriately dressed,
“nothing too fashion forward”
my employee handbook says.
I’m sure no one would tell me I was
wrong anyway. I’m sure they would
let me look stupid.
Like the time I sat in chocolate
wearing white shorts.
I often put my faith in something
as thin as a little string.
Promises are invisible
so are prayers. I guess if you
can’t see it breaking, it’s still intact.
So it seems that the littlest
things are the things we can
put our faith in that
never break. We don’t have
much of a choice though,
if we don’t believe in anything,
what is the point of being here?
If he didn’t climb over the balcony to clean
the windows, someone else would have to
clean the windows.
His rope never broke, by the way.

Taking a Step Back

Due to illness, my next bus ride will not be until next week. Sorry to disappoint. I have about 6 poems I’m brushing up for your reading pleasure, so I will make it up to you. Promise.

“242″ the bus driver yells over the aisle
to the blind woman
struggling up the bus stairs.
It seems the stares from
the other passengers are a steeper set
to climb.
I move two seats back, a gesture
that is seemingly nice
But maybe I’m just afraid
that if I don’t move she’ll sit on my lap.
I hate when I have thoughts like that.
I can feel the asshole part of me
creep into the reds of my cheeks.

According to my 7 pm yoga teacher
“those thoughts will always be there
so it’s best to concentrate on your breathing.”
Palms facing up towards the sky,
reaching with your heart,
guide your breathing with your mind.
concentrate.

It’s hard to breathe when
thoughts are cutting off any hope
of positivity.
Yoga doesn’t work
for me. I’m too uptight, I think.
Please don’t try to change me
don’t try to relax me
My legs don’t go that high
my muscles don’t want to be stretched like that.

But I’ll go anyway.
I won’t bring any negative thoughts with me,
Heaven forbid I mess up
the chi of the woman sweating from forcing
her body into positions her past mid-life
body shouldn’t be in.

Look at me. Look at me, blind woman.
Can’t you see that you’re making me realize
how much of a jerk I can be?
Or maybe you’re just a tangible
way for me to realize that I am blind
to the fact that I’m really deep down
judgemental.
Aren’t we all blind
in one way or another?

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I could tell he was a realist
Just like I can tell someone’s a smoker–he smelled like one.
“But you have to have some reigns on your dreams…”
“Is that really a good idea?”
“How are you going to pay for that?”
Too much 2nd hand opinion can kill you.

Bus to Somewhere

I’ve started to ride the bus again. Getting my creative juices flowing after all this time. I’m pretty excited to begin writing again. Please leave your thoughts about the poetry here. I can only get better with help.

Stay tuned.