at calle dinamarca #26
i wait

stale plants puddle on the unstable window ledge trying to find the october sun
some unseen motion vibrates in the half-drawn curtains

in a bare corner
i catch a sliver of a dusty ceiling fan

there is slight wind
i get distracted,
by a lone branch attempting to touch the thin glass panes
by my own hands

i am motionless,
and ungrounded

and yet,
i return to the window