On+Top+of+the+World

|| I am walking under some scaffolding. There is a flock of pigeons picking at some garbage, but I don’t care about them. I am intent. As I cross the dirty, oily street, the sound of a fire engine screams to life. Quickly, I cross the road on to the dirt and grime-encrusted sidewalk. I see my destination, a beautiful array of glass with a revolving door. That is my target. As I pass through, I go into another world. The chill of the air-conditioning and the red carpet make it like a movie premiere. This is no movie premiere. I go up an escalator and enter in to a room filled with people. There is a lane for me to pass them. I then pass to the line and wait my turn to ascend. I enter the elevator it shoots me up like a sling shot. It stops at the 86th floor. The view is amazing. I’m on top of the world. I step out and walk around. The wall of buildings are like uncut grass. Then, they stop. The mirror of still water and a 150 foot lady standing on a patch of land complete the view. This isn’t a city, its paradise. I finish looking around. I get on the lift. And descend speeding like a plane without its engines, plummeting, and suddenly I stop. I walk out of the elevator and am soon engulfed by the city.        ||= http://www.crinale.it/public/uploaded/2005111022215_Top%20Of%20The%20World.jpg ||  || || ||
 * = ==On Top of the World == ||= [[image:ca-rhapsodicwritingsch1:500px-Speaker_Icon_svg.png link="http://broadcast1.caryacademy.org/faculty/Briarly_White/poetry/chapter4/RobertR4OnTopoftheWorld.mp3"]]
 * = The honk of the car’s horn and the buzz of engines blast in my ears.