-the three-deckers ran to the clouds-

from the pavement the three-deckers

seemed to run to the clouds.

the four-deckers broke through

like inverted meteorites.

(meteorites are a better metaphor
than mountain-tops here because
there's a lot of action to the workings of meteorites)

still, that’s a tough climb.

Norene Ferreira

lived on the backend

of one of those.
four decks, two
apartments per deck.

that’a a small planet. 

It’s the stairway to heaven, boys

and I'm going up.

the ballgame’s over.

I'm one for four,

a dribbler in the gap
between

third and short.

I’m stranded at first.

now I’m climbing

the stairway to the stars,

a full nine years
of life under my belt.

no answer after three knocks.

a pause, then four more knocks
and still no answer.
I tell you, men, Norene Ferreira's
worth a minimum of seven knocks.

the long climb down
and I leave behind 

a column in knock arithmetic
lingering at the door without its sum.

it's a step to the corner

of Bedford and Johnston,

that’s one block from the ballpark

where the game was lost
and my house, a three-decker siting across the street.

submitted for consideration
on this day, Thursday,
August 15, 2019 to the canon
of countless unrequited love poems.