the roof
is hot
under your shoes
as you
negotiate
the angle
and gritty surface
of the old
tiles.
on the ground
those two boards
could be painted
in five
minutes,
but this will
take an hour.
you slide a little
then steady
yourself,
using your weight,
leaning
towards the center.
holding a brush,
and a bucket
out like a wire
walker.
there is
nothing to hang
onto, but
air
and your faith
and up here,
surfing
this house
it doesn't seem
quite
enough sometimes.
Friday, May 10, 2013
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1 comment:
Reminds me of cleaning the gutters on the big old Victorian house I grew up in. My mother had me and my sisters go out on the roof with a trowel, scoop up the flotsam and jetsam, then get rid of it. I don't remember what we did with it, but I seriously doubt that throwing it over the side was acceptable. And I had a fear of heights.
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