A storm. A gusting wind.
It all but begs you to levitate.
To tear yourself from the earth,
To hang, to fly —
Stealthily, so as not to tempt.

Here it is, the ecstasy of freedom,
Head and feet at eye level,
Independence from gravity…
And at once I become a shock of sensation,
A horror, a generator of super-anxiety.

People around the corner expect evil,
They flee from one another.
“Calm down, don’t wonder that I’m not like that.
I’m no ghost, I haven’t died! I am very much alive!
I long for a truer life.”