The Majestic
Because the evening is warm
and one day closer to the summer
solstice, we make our way
to the roof of the theater,
climbing iron rungs that I cling to
like Buster Keaton
when I look down, then passing
over the rooms where people lose
themselves in front of shiny icons
and when we reach the top
we sit on gravel among empty
bottles of Jack Daniels and Old
Milwaukee and look beyond
the building across from us
to a sky where city lights blend
into stars so that if we were careful
to lose ourselves we would be unable
to distinguish between the two.
(First published in Wisconsin Academy Review)
