how tall is

i walk on dark stilts 
in the parking lot, back & forth 
what kind of bird?
my guillotine shadows saunter  
removing the heads of plastic bag ghosts,
slicing parking spaces 
like pound cake. 

the top shelf is not 
all that far away now & 
then i won't have to ask you 
to stretch your talons up
to pull another bird's nest down
by the neck 

each day i add another foot
to my new legs, teach 
myself how to stumble
taller & taller, as high as
the water tower, mouth full
of mouth: 
a water balloon tongue

when the cars scream their horns 
i shout back, dead cranes
calling out with both of 
our beaks, we have
a conversation about 
the sadness of driving 
in new york with the rain spitting
to remind us how unclean 
we still feel

you wouldn't recognize me
so elevation.
head bumped on the hot-faced moon,
is this how tall is a man?

i slow dance the lamps 
in the parking lot, call
them sweet names like "dearest"
& "doll"
each almost as tall
as me

a waltz sound crawls 
on all fours from the grates
so i sway alone, circling 
the carcass of my car 
like a condor, soft
green meat of 
a passenger seat 

i call out again 
to no horn in particular,
it's loon & lonely
out here

add another foot,
steady myself 

at least 
i'm tall now