The Window Cleaners

Down here, who knows what they see from way up there? We push and shove in all directions, clouds of breath in the still dark streets. Yet up where they are, in the zone of first light, one sings mock arias, the other (apparently there are only two) controls the lift. Do they look in or out? Reflected in the glass envelope of the building, they have work to do. Yet they sing and sway.