Concrete stairs covered in powdery dirt looks as grey
as the sky does today.
Seven flights led us out onto the empty roof top.
The smell of dying leaves and flowers coursed through the chilled fall air.
Your hair lifted and pushed from side to side
when the wind changed it's mind.
Ice cream cones in our hands began to melt
causing rivers of vanilla to appear on our knuckles.
Clouds that filled the sky looked as if they were smeared on
with a dull brush and thin paint.
Silhouettes of people in windows who think no one sees them,
taking phone calls from people who'd rather not be seen.
The sun began to fall, we could tell because the greyish
white clouds fell darker, turning to ash.
We were alone there on top of that parking garage,
there was no one left but you and me.