A man, with his head thrown back, falls like an angel, heavy with blues, with the slumped weight of earth, pulling him into an embrace of worms.

I have been, often unexpectedly, been A witness to this fall. Last night a wino On Ponce, falling into a cardboard box Under a bridge's overhang, into sleep.

A few hours before that, a man and a woman Seated in a bar saturated with broken glances looked at each other significantly but left home alone, to fall into a lonely slumber

Of what ifs. What if instead of wax, the ties That tie invisible wings to our bodies were made of something stronger - steel? What if every human desire can take off flawlessly into the blue?

Icarus was & is a necessary myth, with both Of his melting wings, with all of his terrible desire To fervidly embrace the stars. And his falling, As the wino fell, as the man & the woman fell,

His head thrown back, his blue body falling Through a cloud of shell burst, a bullet hole In his chest marking his heart's fire, a red Pulsing coin, is necessary to remind all of us,

The earthbound, of the unreachable stars and the trajectory of falls that take us to them.