I have been to a place
where I can hang suspended
above a 1000 foot drop.
I have been to place
where I can fly.
Really, I have.
I can show you.

There are no signs that say
“Don’t Touch” or whispered
conversations about the meaning of “Art.”
Because I am in my own private museum
200 feet below. And there’s no one here
to tell me I can’t take pictures.

They sound so sad.
Or at least that’s what sad
sounds like in my world.
Perhaps in theirs it is only the
sound of cocktail conversation.
I wonder if I am in their stories?
I know they will be in mine.