Flying Over

I can see the rooftops of your world;
from my rusted perch
I've been circling for years
never knowing when,
or if,
you'll let me land.
 
I can see the rooftops of your world
the unsightly
the unseen
the spires
the power sources
stars dimmed from lesser light
still,
you'd take them from me
if you could.
 
i can see the rooftops of your world
and sometimes more
the windows you see out of
the intimacy of your coffee
the door women walk through
the door i have entered
weekends here and there (this year that year)
 
i can see the rooftops of your world
they'd pass for beauty in hell
i flap over them heavily
exhausted by habit
a decrepit bird nearing extinction
swallowed by the night sky.