The Ralph Nader poster and African masks on my walls are flying at me
the red wall itself and breezy-paned window frames are running at me
the city night, grey clouds, rain spritzes, brick buildings, myriad lit windows
are swimming at me

Central park is floating to my 21st story
my head is floating one story higher
my bed is falling one story lower
and everything is wet with deep-as-cloud raindrops.

But its all so fuzzy,
to feel, to hear
to the touch and the ear.