He spent weeks looking for the right window,

the one he remembered, with wheat green

paint peeling like curled feathers and a screen

that didn't quite fit around the edges. The sill

tilted into the street where crates that once

held plums and oranges balanced in heaps

behind the grocery store, This End Up arrows

a confusion of diagonals. It turned out to be

on the fourth floor of a tenement he'd never

seen before, and since he couldn't explain

why it was the right one he told the landlord

it was all he could afford. Then he stood

in front of the window until the sun rose again

over the city's rim. It was something to remember.

-oOo-

What place does the man of superior understanding seek?

There is only this single leaf of a boat.