We were dropping
bottles from a rooftop.
Brick smeared across your shoulders,
windows wound all boa about your neck,
rust and yellow in a flashed arabesque.
Such a slurred reflection.
But before the sidewalk shatter,
before the dull slap of labels
heavy with glue and broken glass,
before the sweeps made cleaner streets,
There was that redolent pause,
that brief and brittle down,
that was falling.