People have stopped
Staring at me.
I mount the stairs
Until I find the right exit
Of the many
In this huge detailed
Cryptic building.
I'm above the city now
And I take the plunge:
I tear up your
Ridiculous capital letters
And let the wind
Carry them back to the west.
A painless wasp-sting.
It is March again;
As I turn around
You have gone.
