Philadelphia Freedom

Red octogons, yellow triangles, iron fences crumbling like gingerbread. I observe my kingdom from the tenth floor, watching the fly-crusted bodies drift in their deflated kayaks. There's the yellow line, shimmering beneath the water, the line I weaved over as I rushed to stock food, to survive. Now I slurp my last bites of brown-sugar beans. Three extra weeks. All I did was eat and wait for the helicopters. Nothing.

With a finite sigh, I toss the can out the window. Then I climb, curl my toes over the sill. I think of Philadelphia, of rainbowed swimming pools, and jump.