I sit on the edge.
They sway as I stare,
stare into the wold,
the real world.
I look at the maple,
the oak,
and want.
To fall off is a fantasy,
a desire like no other.
Do not stare do not look do not glance,
at the drive, the identical house.
Safety is suicide.
I am freed as I fall.
Wind is cold and loud.
I see the ground, the leaves.
I see the real world.
Not the identical house next to mine.
nor the one next to that.
I feel the world, I meander the ground.
I do not travel fast, and look at passing signs.
I listen to the the world, I awe at the world, I walk the world.
The real world.