We are holding up the sun
when, after the sky is in full bloom,
we contemplate the distance around the Earth,
and how far we are from the equator,
and if we will ever stand on it.
We are the ones you see
out of the corner of your eye
when you stand at the window of someone else's apartment
and feel like crying and try to stop but do it anyway.
We are the ones
on top of the building on the corner of Canal Street.
We are the ones you try to find in the middle of the night:
eyes squinting into the black stairwell,
damp feet on the wooden floor,
try and can't.
We love to get lost
and never found.