Forgotten Ground Regained
Afterimage
Against a neon sky a stark silhouette:two shimmering towers faint and transparentfade in and out as they fly above the fog.Look closely through cloud and you’ll see the cablehe smuggled to the top of the silent South Tower.He shot the arrow, its shaft a shooting star;friends caught the fishing line and fixed it to the roof,hauled across cable, anchored cavalettis.Against a timeless sky that steel line stretchesfrom New York ’74 off into the future.Swooping in the wind the tiny wire walkerwith his balancing pole, back lit by the dawn,glides into space. He grunts as he goesbut by halfway across he’s humming, he kneelsand swings his right arm in his signature salute.(Far, far below, small faces upturned,a crowd converged and cop cars wailed —but none linger now, the night sky holds onlythe tightrope and the man treading like a torero.)Against an eggshell sky seven times he sashaysfrom tower to tower twirling midway.His slippers stroke steel, his eyes on the far side —you can see him there still as he slowly lies down,sets the pole on his stomach, spine fat on cable.Then, weight on the right foot, he waits for the wireto lift just a little and stands up laughingthough rain has started to spatter his skin.Against a neon sky, night after night,sliding his feet through the startled stars,Philippe Petit flies with the phantom twins.
_in_the_1980s_skyview.jpg "The Twin Towers in the !980s")
Copyright © Judih Barringon, 2004
Originally published in Horses and the Human Soul
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Answer: the zeros and ones of math and science