Above the treetops, two tuckpointers—
brick-faced, in brave white
overalls and stained khaki
ball caps,
practicing their
careful avian acrobatics
on the skinny fourth
floor scaffolding—
start dropping
indecorous-sounding exchanges
in quick, clipped Ukrainian—but still,
it's quite easy
and a small pleasure
for me, sauntering underneath
and gawking—to feel sure they're
only joking.
