The City Hopping Thief

The sun sets,

And soon my plan will commence.

The walk across the city

Promises me thoughts and wisdom.

Too bad I never seem to listen.

 

The sky cries,

My mother sighs,

And a little bird flies.

Across the city I go,

Lifted by technology and ego

 

I land on top of the Met,

Where the camera is waiting and my stage is set.

Putting on a black suit,

Thinking of pulling out of this entire pursuit.

 

I don’t have to do this.

Do I want to do this?

 

A flash and forget my doubts.

A little crash catches their attention,

I’m sure the window I’ve blown won’t be missed.

When I drop into the red hall,

Everyone can tell something is amiss.

 

For a moment, I forget.

All the feelings flutter away.

I bask in the kaleidoscope of art

Wishing never to be apart

From the thing that brings me the most joy,

More than anything that could ever be enjoyed.

 

A whistle and a shove string me out of my mind,

And then I get back to looking for what I came to find.

Everything is valuable, sure,

But not everything is valuable to me.

There is one piece I seek

One thing – the missing piece

To the ever-increasing mystery of me.

 

A guard tries to grab my hand

But before he can, I’m on a pole next to a fan.

He yells,

I smile

Finding fun in the anger in his eye.

 

I find my piece,

And nearly lose my mind when I realise

It is surrounded by people, hovering like flies

Around a juicy piece of meat.

I crawl, a spider in form,

Across the ceiling

Until I’m above it all.

 

I cause a tiny distraction,

Almost broke someone’s leg.

But, in my defence

It was a good book lost,

Pages spread on the floor are a little cost.

The flies clear from my prize

And I swear I can feel my eyes

Grow bigger and bigger with its beauty

 

The strokes of green

Shimmer and gleam

As if they were strips of pure gold.

The frame is old

Adding to its appeal

And my heart beats with a new kind of zeal.

 

I drop back down

A thud and a little toy crushed.

From a little boy, tears gushed.

But my eyes

Are only fixed on my glorious, glorious prize.

 

I pounce towards it,

Cut the red tape

And steal it off its pedestal.

The world seems to stall

And I have those thoughts again.

 

I don’t have to do this.

Why did I do this?

 

It’s too late now.

With a flash, I put the prize

Away from prying eyes

In a bag that slides right onto my back.

A speech and a smile would do,

But there’s no more time

For me to even smile

Or a chance to say goodbye.

 

Another window won’t be missed, will it?

I plan not to stick around long enough to find out.

 

Heading into New York City,

For the policemen, I almost feel pity.

But then I remember what I can

And I remember that I have a plan.

 

I’ll outrun them.

I’ll out-fly them.

I’ll outswim them.

 

I beat them,

Every. Single. Time.

 

The prize appeals to my eyes

But mostly my heart

As I mutter out my goodbyes.

 

My mother said it was the worst part.

Moving away, to another place,

To steal another piece,

And move out with the same rushed pace.

 

On the flight to Baltimore,

I search museums and art

Starting this long, painful cycle again,

Replaying the thoughts once more.

 

I don’t have to do this.

Do I want to do this?

Natalie Lusenaka