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Description
there are buildings with no motivation to grow any taller than two stories,
with no ambition to reach for anything
but telephone wires and the sun just before it sets.
i wonder what their mothers tell them—
probably something about there being beauty in their size
or something about how not everyone should be as gluttonous as the skyscrapers.

you know, buildings that small don’t even have fire escapes.
you could jump from twenty feet and (probably) survive—
buildings that small have windows that look out onto people
who are close enough to look like people.
perhaps even scarier:
those people can look right into the window
and see you looking like a person;
or maybe not like a person
with a toothbrush in your mouth, your hair looking like the worst of autumn.
with it being bright red and falling out you look more like the rough parts of a season,
like the transition between days when every day feels the same.

on the street looking up at a two story building,
i see autumn with a toothbrush in her mouth and bags beneath her eyes.
she looks at me wishing she weren’t so close to the ground,
wishing our eye contact hadn’t just ruined october for me.
she looks at me and curses her building for only being twenty feet high,
curses it for its complete lack of motivation

Description
there are buildings with no motivation to grow any taller than two stories,
with no ambition to reach for anything
but telephone wires and the sun just before it sets.
i wonder what their mothers tell them—
probably something about there being beauty in their size
or something about how not everyone should be as gluttonous as the skyscrapers.

you know, buildings that small don’t even have fire escapes.
you could jump from twenty feet and (probably) survive—
buildings that small have windows that look out onto people
who are close enough to look like people.
perhaps even scarier:
those people can look right into the window
and see you looking like a person;
or maybe not like a person
with a toothbrush in your mouth, your hair looking like the worst of autumn.
with it being bright red and falling out you look more like the rough parts of a season,
like the transition between days when every day feels the same.

on the street looking up at a two story building,
i see autumn with a toothbrush in her mouth and bags beneath her eyes.
she looks at me wishing she weren’t so close to the ground,
wishing our eye contact hadn’t just ruined october for me.
she looks at me and curses her building for only being twenty feet high,
curses it for its complete lack of motivation