Floating Ladders3
By Alisha Attella

Third street stretches across The Heights
In late afternoon when the moon soothes
Wild parrot apparitions to disappear into
Faint twin dance twinings on the milk pink,
Luring cigarette travelers to mingle with

Cookie jar Buddhas lined up on sink sills and
Old trees growing from safe window
Iron enlightenment in city reincarnation
Where sun-beat windows and muscle cars
Become bungalows and August Pontiacs

I walk on hypnotized by Japanese Beetles
And the cartilage-crickets in my misaligned neck
With palms open to welcome the night and
Whatever might find its way through shadows
That creep past the in between of gloaming
And finally manage to split me in two

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