On the telephone wire is a gathering of balloons
breath or is it helium pressed into them
remnants of a young girl's birthday party.
Maybe she let go of the pink and purple balloons to live in the sky
instead, caught by their strings, become tightrope walkers
finding balance against wind.
Imagine the balloons swaying, tugging at their fraying strings,
until their short life loses breath, strings still a tangled confusion.