Many nights I’ve crossed
at that same corner.
At that very same intersection
up the block.

Of flocks that fly before?
colors of lit lines
Sat in the same sky
When I’d think to remember those
I missed most.
And of my self

with a bird alone
that semed to be falling freely

All these to see:
That street. Leading, up
to buildings besides, beyond and, too,
just in front.

A scene
enough obstructs
Stuck behind that slot.
between cots and locks.
Boxed, I watch, plotting
over that spot.