Joe Meno

In one short moment he was in the air, dangling like a foreign gray flag, hanging on to the hat with the very ends of the fingertips of his right hand. He was rising, rising up, the fragile bling and din and honk of the traffic fading below him, his shiny brown shoes sweeping hopelessly about the cloudy air for some kind of footing. And yet, as Charlie’s suit coat billowed like a dinghy’s sail and a small but polite traffic cop, decked out completely in blue, lifted his finger and pointed, making his mustached mouth into a small O of surprise and wonder, Charlie only closed his eyes and thought, Why? Why, too, was this happening?

Joe Meno, “Hold On to Your Hat”
Bluebirds Used to Croon in the Choir (TriQuarterly Books; $12.95)

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