Jumper

Good morning
I said
As though sure of myself.

It escaped my lips
Like a jumper
From a burning building.

It hung in the morning air
Like a dust mote
Like diesel exhaust
Like the coo of a mourning dove.

She half turned her head
To see me in periphery.

I wanted to flee
To pretend I’d offered
No greeting
Made no contact.

My
Good Morning
Drifted like smoke
In the chill air.
It cast a shadow
Falling across her face.

Good Morning
She said.

But her
Good Morning
Had no substance at all.