space junk circus act

he a high wire artist who loves
distance between trapeze
and audience
you someone who holds fistfuls
of air

he glides all business
like across enthusiasm you as
net

here is tennis between ceiling
and floor
your words ricochet relay
bounce off silence

vertical’s a virtuous border
with enough gap
to keep him safe
not from falling
but from falling in

thru
one way
telescope he is the man
in moon
where he escapes gravity
and the unavoidable drop

you remember a juggler
incapable of throwing fire
without burning