Between the buildings, a slice of air / I pull into thinner pieces. In them / a reflection: three men escape from jail / in a makeshift boat, the fog an accomplice. / How they survive like guilt, /

Richard, you / are force of nature / confined to 6’3”, / dreads swaying / like heavy branches / 
in a storm—

Let no sucka crews try to test me /     today. / 

These muscles are still tense / from crossing my arms / all those years ago / when I wanted to swing them.

Sparrows become rainclouds / in the crumbling, granite birdbath. / The tombs of my ancestors collapse / the way calligraphy cracks: a spine  / out of alignment.