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I look down, straight down at the thing in the wheelchair exiting from a few apartments over and next. Thing does the usual straight line over the street and this way. The motor barely hums that far away. And the shadow stretches silently past the lamppost. I let the penny drop and watch it spin past thirteen glowing windows. Thing doesn't move, look, what, iust keeps stretching past to where it exactly has to go. No joyriding midnight stroll for the differently abled. Early spring cold winds in, and i get bored, closing the window iust enough for cigarette smoke. An ambulance sirens past, yellow light barely reaching the ceiling. I wonder where the thing goes every night. Probably the hospital or the deli. I light another one and lean the stolen barstool back against the wall. Suitemate number four's huge velvet pink floyd poster is falling again. I listen to the peeling tape as another light takes off from la guardia airport. The light breaks into two as it arcs overhead, its bloated underbelly glowing purple from the millions of street lamps protecting our streets from all dark things. But the street lamps don't go anywhere. Only in morningside park do they leave you alone. The darkness below is pierced with shafts of sulfur branches and halogen moonscapes. The gunshots never feel too far away, seranading me behind the glare and under the jaded trees bearing witness and cursing their short straw. The trees envy the wheelchair, but not the thing. I only envy the plane. These enviables crisscross endlessly the purple sky and laugh at me behind my living room bar with the lights out, they laugh and drop pennies on me before they pass my roof and forget about me. Someday i'll get back at them, i'll be in one and i'll take off and hover right in front of my living room, laughing at my empty stolen barstool behind the stolen bar. My four suite mates will stare at me from behind the kitchen door frame, and i'll throw pennies, no, nickles, at the huge windows and shatter them and watch the street lamps and the glowing windows guide the shards onto the thing motoring by on the sidewalk. I'll say goodbye to no one and float past the roof and into the dark.
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