Spirit on a Wire
The city people say a spirit walks their wires. The lonely people are the ones who know him the best. From a balcony, from the street, they see a pair of red and black sneakers pace the power lines, the figure above them hidden beneath baggy clothes and a deep hood. You can see his ankles, they say, confirmation that it is in fact the figure of a man walking the space between the telephone poles, only a single black line between him and falling. They never see his face. They only see his back, see his arm, see a collar and a deep shadow. The lonely people love him like one of their own, and the other people love him as their protector. He has an iron grip they say, and feet that walk the air like the steps on a fire escape. He needs no weapon for the men in the alleys. There are stories, you see, stories of old women and young women, stories of beaten men who saw the gray shadow appear be...