A Special Latitude - A Poem

    There is a special latitude above our heads where the air is cooler;

    any higher or lower than that I've found tends to be much crueler.

    My fingers lose feeling skyward, but I keep them up regardless;

     a pinch in the elbow will remind me that my hands are heartless.

    I used to think people would keep their hands above them to flaunt or for show,

    but when I confronted them about it, they would say, "Do it, or you won't ever know."

    There is something very special about that latitude we talked about.

    To feel something about this humid ground where we're just an amount.

    Something bigger rests its head on the softness of that air,

    & that's where I wish to be. Right there.