The soft ticking
Of several coasting bicycles
Fills the streets.
Dance their light down to the pavement
Through fingered trees.
I almost wish cobblestones
Lined the street.
That way we could put our feet on my house
And pretend we stood
Backs against a brick wall.
Staring out over the ledge of the world
Just over my third storey window
Off into the empty sky.
Maybe one of us would walk forward
Leaning out just so far, looking down
Into the greying dawn.