I may have begun to separate
already. At times, an old man
down the stairs,
knees weak, careful
with his steps.
The other day, I was headed east
on West 16th Street, when a giant
pounding surrounded me, then a great
whoosh, and the boys from Xavier High School
were already beyond me, running
toward whatever awaited them,
their boisterous calls chasing
finches up into the branches,
beneath which I watched myself,
in my hands.