Dreaming is for Windows

She'll have soup when she gets home
But she'll dream of escargot

She dreams about it now
While the blue dark comes down from the sky
And slowly pinches
Each of the city lights

She presses her face
Up against the thick, cool office window glass
And she feels grateful, at least
That she can see a bridge
From where she sits

The best sort of views
Always includes
A bridge

She looks at buildings taller than hers

(There are more than a few)

And she goes up floor-by-floor
Using the windows
To tell herself stories

'The man from Accounting is thinking about the woman
From Personnel
Who eats lunch with the girl from Marketing
Who is secretly seeing a VP
Who...'

In reality, she could be looking at yoga studios
And the headquarters
Of an organic beet juice company

But she tells herself
That what's she seeing
Is not so unlike
What she experiences every day

An office sort of life
Surrounded by windows
Looking out onto a city
She gets to see very little of
From the ground

Sometimes she swears that smells
Are making their way
Through the sturdy office glass
And into her cubicle

Italian food
Hot dog carts
Fresh bread
Roasted almonds
Or are they called toasted almonds?

Some days
Before she leaves at five
She swears she can see
People dancing on the street

Hanging on to lampposts
Like Gene Kelly
Waiting for rain

She presses her hand up against the glass
And though she feels tired

Today, she thinks
She'll stay out a little bit

Walk up and down a few of those streets

Maybe grab a hot dog
Maybe grab some escargot

And she'll see if she can find one of the spots
That she looks down on
From her office window

And when she does
She'll look up and wave

At whomever
Might be there