I rise and fall like music on the sheet

Rows of giant microphones on both sides.
A bird explodes into being, lives half a breath and is no more.
There are no giants left to sing.
Or maybe there were never giants.
Maybe I’m just small.

Rows of giant showerheads on both sides
Water slaps me with words I like but don’t understand.
Not even giants could swim here, despite all the water.
I see them standing with their hands up.
Me, I can only drown, or be washed.

Rows of giant gallows on both sides
I get an infinite number of tries, but still I cannot guess the word.
My friends stand ankle-deep in sand,
Waiting for a giant to come and draw the noose.
But my enemies and I know better than to be afraid.

When I think of you, I feel like that bird.
And now lampposts are just lampposts,
And I, too, no longer exist.