They say
our home is on
the fly over route
where bats
cruise like teenage boys
back and forth
with a longing need
to move
into a darkened corner
to take a mate
and hang.

But that elusive
girl in her attempt
to be coy
slips through a vent
followed by her boy
into our space
where screams
and swatting towels
collide.

Till an open door
gives way to sky
and everyone
can breathe
and fly
and my mate and I
vent again
our longing need
to move.