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what we see when we wave good morning photo

from the windows of our own burning buildings,
your face distorted by heat signature—

your smile parabolas like a frown,
like i am looking backwards through
a two-way mirror, peering into
a body of flame and soft ash.

the building collapses
over your head. bricks fall

in front of your face and when they pass
your smile-frown pauses,
considers the weight of sunlight
heaving from east to west.

the world rotates backwards.
the split ends of your hair catch fire
and race each other to your scalp.
you are brilliant and smiling

and i am watching from my window,
glass melting in front of my hello hand
which i suppose is also a goodbye hand.