Behind the Sign

I'm on the roof
Looking at the world below
Stray dog chasing a car
A large camper across the street
Somebody washing their feet in
The lion fountain at the park.

I'm not supposed to be here!
How did I get here?
Who allowed me to be here?
Why am I here?

I'm on the roof
Looking at the world above
Birds heading for a meal
The mountain in the distance
Sun so far in the bright summer sky
Not a single cloud in sight.

I'm not supposed to be here!
How did I get here?
Who allowed me to be here?
Why am I here?

But I'm there, behind the sign
The sign looks different backwards.
In plain sight, behind the sign
Then again, it was made backwards.
I could hide, behind the sign,
But I don't want to.
I don't want to stare at it from below, either.

February 22nd 2016, written within some fifteen minutes


The "sign" in question is not the Hollywood Sign or the Ace of Base song, though the poem could have been inspired by the latter to a certain extent, as I always liked the verses No one's gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong /But where do you belong? and I understand whatever decision Linn Bergen had to make for the sake of her own peace. Anyway, it's a sign and it's real, but depending on your Sprachentalent, you may or may not be able to read it. Just like any other sign.

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