Notes to myself # 3

On the penultimate floor of her skyscraper
curled up on the window sill, she sits,
knees pulled back to her chest,
staring out, contemplating…
Tossing a coin off the window,
waiting for it to shatter the silence of the desolate street beneath,
clogging her ears,
she bursts out, screaming…
Moments later,
with the coin tingling restlessly still,
a blind rag picker comes in wandering,
poking his stick around,
he steps casually on the coin,
and walks past the building…
The coin, feeling restive, now lies lifeless on the path,
just to be stalked by her, thoroughly…