Balloonman

All day he felt it coming on
like sleep, only lighter and less

sure. More like a slow
awareness of gravity, a certain

cessation of will that
allowed his feet to graze the top

of sidewalks despite his wet and
weighted shoes. Even his thick hands

took on the shape of shiny webs
Pulling the high, light bones of his

torso toward the sun. His mind
was a wing; he rose like helium.

Anne Spollen