Departures

Hooded, belted in, and considerably calmer than you would be.

Twenty feet above the water, on straps, in front of everybody.

The stick already up, the ball still on the ground, the light nearly gone.

Lifted, lit from below, and parked where a fountain should be.

Palms, lamplight, and several hundred people who all know each other.

The column goes back further than the picture does.

Dripped across a newspaper, in a red that has not quite finished running.

A torn note on navy, and one man refusing to look away.

Everything passes, says the writing. The child is unconvinced.