The Golden Hour

Rowan Ricardo Phillips

Wait. So you're new? Great.

I've always wanted to show someone around.

Here: If you look straight up you'll see

The tops of skyscrapers

Staring straight down at you

And the sidewalks you thought you were walking on

Are actually way up there in the high distance.

I know, right? Look at them,

All like the concrete vapor trails of thousands

Of concrete passing planes, and here: look down,

See your hands where your feet

Should be and nothing where your hands

Should be and nothing in your pockets anyway?

Awesome. Welcome to the First Light. Enjoy

The feeling while it lasts.

Because soon this will all be normal to you

And you will feel as normal as *&#%

And believe me that will #$*!&∧@ suck. Look at this:

It's just like CGI. Touch me,

Oh, that's right: you have no hands.

Imagine touching me. It's much better that way

anyway. Anyway…

Yeah. No. It doesn't rain anymore. But

There's the sun up there maybe perhaps.

And every golden hour (I don't know what that is),

Like clockwork (I mean, right?), they

Have their people shake their trashcans

Out their windows

And the coins that make it down here

They feel kind of a little bit like rain.

They call it watering the money tree.

I'm just happy to be in the way.