hot air balloon

in the city 
no one else seems to notice
the hot air balloons
on clear days they gather
like a flock of strange animals
oscillating patterns of color
yellow  navy  maroon  orange
they must land somewhere
maybe the top of a building
to picking someone up
where do the balloon take them?

the sky was wider 
where i grew up
the bell of a french horn 
the wide eye of a pin
the hot air balloons were rare
all of us standing at the edge
of the park
sand box toys in hand
as we watched a hot air balloon
drifting towards the farmland
did those balloons have people inside
or were they just searching
from one to keep
in there nest?

i know for sure 
that one will land to take me
maybe not this year or the next
but i think of that woven basket
i think of the expanding
colorful membrane
like head of an octopus 

i want a hot air balloon 
to take me
to land on the roof 
of my apartment sometime near dusk
when the sky is orange  grey
to hold me high above everything
tell me stories about 
what the earth looks like
just below clouds
knitted scarf fields 
thumb tack houses 
rat snake road

never come down
pass back over the city
some years later to remember
what the sidewalk 
sounds like under flip flops 
or what texture wind against
a skyscraper makes

bodies i loved 
all moving spider-like below 
some of them stopping
to stare up