A black cloud hints of rain
and you think of the industrial city
you grew up in
There was no more industry in that city
there was barely even a city
You remember how you once climbed
an abandoned crane
and tried to breathe in the air indifferent of the presence
of the old chimneys, or to see the city
you grew up in
from the perspective of its sleeping iron bird
but the only thing you saw
was your fear of heights
imprinted on the ground
that was holding the crane immobile
And even though the weather often changed
and the people were moving out in search of jobs
and the good children were turning into spiteful adolescents
you weren’t able to distinguish them from one another
there was never ever something
that could thrill you or excite you – even hurt you –
– so you thought
The birds were hatching and learning to fly
changing their bodies like the threes were changing seasons
To you, it always seemed like the same bird
a living bit of coal
contrasting with the orange of the sky
Flying over three empty rivers
If you have ever really jumped
The sense of fall would shallow your bones
with the urge for someone
to lift you up
by the waist
to pull you by the wrists until you fly
How you wanted to meet someone
who would save you
from your lack of expectations
from your low blood pressure
How desperate you were for anybody to tell you
the fall would hurt less than the jump