The Ninth Floor

I was never allowed too close to the window.

Stories of children jumping from their bedroom

wishing to fly, believing they could as they lay

broken on the surface — those stories kept me up,

But I always fell asleep eventually.

I met Julian outside Granny’s bedroom window.

A little boy who only knew my face

behind a checkered screen, in the apartment

across the parking lot.

Our voices never heard, but our super powers

stretched beyond the width of the frames

that confined us. I was always the pink ranger,

Julian, superman.

Together, we would save the world.

Julian believed that he was Superman,

leaping from his bedroom window.

For a six-year old boy,

believing is enough.

I cried for him, I envied him.

Julian and I were just alike,

we both wanted to fly.

I can only wonder how it felt,

to know freedom, like a kid in a red cape

who didn’t know how high up he was,

how hard he’d fall, how much I wanted

to link my arm with his.