Spine

Dazed

and mute,

calm as a monk

above the city

din below, 

a cigarette butt

swirling 

thru a vortex 

of coruscating

reflections,

black blood 

bottled up, he  

steps to the edge, 

silent as snow, 

and jumps,

his hair a wisp 

of wind, 

buffeting shirt  

a cloud, eye 

twinkling, 

mouth a black

hole, a vacuum,

sucking in the air 

to bring back 

the words, bring 

back the world 

until he connects,

spine first, 

a match sparking 

bumper-to-bumper 

with a car's 

windscreen.