to which side?

​

I’m on the hill, again
looking right
to morning Clouds, over
cars, resting
bumpers, peaking
–sniffing the view
up there,
alone, but together
in the lot
that's becoming usual

I pull grass
I hold seeds for a step or
two, and
I let them go – with a thought for the day,
up there, ahead
in brick – clicking and
typing,
breathing and holding
breath

I feel the dirt, shifting
gravel, trickling
slow
off my shoes
– gifted, recently
to walk comfortably
into something new,
I suppose

what will that be?

I ask the sky each morning
and the ceiling each night

I close my eyes and find myself
on top of the wall,
again

I know I’ll fall
but to which side?