she is perched
in her kitchen window
like a starling
no fan tail
just a cigarette
clutched between her fingers
she blows smoke out
into the open air
she always seems
poised for flight
as if flight is
always necessary
always part of some
backup plan for
escape
if her world goes wrong again
flight without wings
and as her one-eyed Jack poem said in February
don't try to save her
her life is a
constant acrobatic act
done without net
a flight from this
window
into the eternity only she can imagine
endlessly terrifying
exciting all the same
each puff perhaps the
last
she will ever take
and she does not care
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