Lightheadedness

Standing with each foot on a different building,
the narrow gap beneath you three stories
of vertiginous silence.
A dog barks. The bricks shimmy.
The golden coin of the sun wobbles on a string,
a blinding pendulum swinging back and forth.
Your eyes knock in their sockets,
your arms windmill as you try to keep your balance.
A spot of shadow dances across the walls,
the sidewalk, your face, wire twists, clouds amass
so thick you can't tug them apart, denser and denser
like concrete taffy

and then you fall, leaving nothing
but a shadow where you stood
and your empty sneakers
and a picture of your half-eaten grin
scrawled across my chest
in ballpoint pen