The Tall Man

People seem small to me, in certain moods, and in certain moods I am envious. Short and squat they walk along the ground; their necks craned down and inward; one eye on themselves, the other on the tiny patch of earth between their tiny feet. To them the world is vast, and infinite, and if they fall it’s earth that catches them, harms them, and tosses them back on their feet again. While I walk the world– rather, balance upon the world— as a towering figure. I perch on it like an elephant atop a circus ball, and when it slips from me, there’s not but cold soft empty falling darkness to cushion my fall.