The Floor Below the Floor

Fourth floor, parking structure C.

The yellow stripe on the edge

worn to almost nothing.

I looked down through the railing

at the wet asphalt below—

the cars small and certain

as things that have decided.

It wasn't dizziness.

More like a seam

between the floor I was standing on

and the one that could hold me

differently.

Thirty seconds, maybe.

A stranger's car alarm went off.

I walked back to my car

without looking down again.

I still don't know what the gap

was practicing for.