Pavement

He doesn't want to live anymore.

Too many nights have been spent
watching smokestacks
cough up smog.

By now
his lungs
are lined with steel,
and his heart
is pumping pollution
to his veins.

He wants to start
breathing again.

But maybe
he is too afraid
to try.

He spent his life believing
trees could sprout
in pavement.

That they could
break foundations
as they exhale
and seep
like veins
through waiting soil.

He watched skyscrapers
spout instead.

And with them,
he climbs.
Casting glances
in search of green.

He is lost now.
Hopelessly falling.

And just as the winds catches him,
he glides,
weightless.

The air cradles him
before casting him off again.

He lands
amongst leaves.

And begins to breath.