A ZIP LINE WOULD BE A COLD RIDE FROM UP HERE

there is a man in the building

four blocks over

on the 25th floor

behind the layers of plaster, glass and steel beams

who doesn't know me

or care, that I can tell

but how could I expect him to care

if he doesn't know me?

there is a woman as well

who feels the same

as do the people who work at Playhouse Square,

CSU, PNC, Lakeside avenue

even Tower City

and yet somehow I am convinced that they should

that somehow their lives might be enriched

by simply knowing me

by feeling my pain

being a part of this strange life

or maybe my life might be better in knowing them

and there is a man dressed in several layers of clothing

doing research under several layers of snow in Antarctica

who doesn't know me either

and I'm fairly sure he has it worse than me

although I would gladly switch places with him

or perhaps the man in the moon

if it weren't so unbearably cold