Passing by the window,
high up in the Amoco Building,
after a day’s work, alone
with cleaning crew and vast
mahogany desks, he stops
as the Chicago night
spreads out down State Street
to the river and beyond.
                       Yesterday, he was in California.
           Tomorrow, New York.
He has been moving fast,
but suddenly, in this moment,
he is quiet, listening,
            and a sullen ungovernable impulse
is rising inside him.  His fingers
pass through the glass.
           What are you doing with your life?
           In the dark, small whispers, doubts
swirl about him like the bodies of wild birds,
and suddenly he is weightless,
floats above the silent traffic below.
He can see himself standing alone
through the empty office window.
          Take hold, he says
remember how it was,
step back through the glass
into the room, turn,
and walk away.