From the perspective of high white skies, I have
no perspective, and the prospects are light
and limitless. I've tried, tried to tell the thinning air
I'm not really there. I'm not really me, or the me
it thinks it keeps from falling. I'm the air that fell
and brightened. It fell and what befell it was a face,
but only for an instant, until, until we switch places.
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