Walking a Straight Line

One foot in front of the other, higher than most others.

He walks
like a Wallenda, 
confident and calculated,
careful but relaxed,
up where few go,
he knows 
the consequences
but cherishes 
being above the fray.

Walking a straight line high above Potrero Hill in San Francisco.

Like a Wallenda,
he walks slowly,
heel toe,
one foot in front 
of the other,
walking a straight line,
him the spine of buildings
of all sizes and heights
while the Wallendas 
walked lines strung tight 
high above deep canyons 
and across broad expanses.

Hammers hang 
from his belt, 
harnesses hung 
from theirs.
He concentrates 
on repairing what
he's walking on,
they fixated on the 
wind and getting 
to the other side.

They share a love 
for raising above,
escaping the hustle and buzz,
being surrounded 
by more blue than green,
touching the sky
while keeping an eye
on that straight line.