Is this a-living?

Peacock eyelashes begin to flicker
as my dream is torn at the seams
by morning sun shooting through
the broken blinds
and it’s calling out Scout’s Honor
of a day less dangerous.

Catch a drop of coffee as it enters
the crevice of my morning breath mouth,
adds a skip to my step and the
incentive to descend nimbly down the
flighted steps as a dress-

Pull sleeves over bicep toward wrist to fingertip,
Nine flights and a half counting
last four steps at the lobby and
my coffee is still steaming with intentions
of me drinking it…

Toss it to trash as I pass Boss who
hands me my gear for day’s task:
It’s thirteen, unlucky; and four more
than mine but not higher than I’ve been
before.

So in ropes I tangle in hopes
to dangle hundreds of feet from
trusty ground and the
sound of creaking kills my calmness
that I pretended to have early on.

In washing the building’s eyes to the world
I am earning every cent
but from this elevated perspective
I can’t help but feel
that I am spent.