The Jumper Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

He swayed on top of the tall tower
and braved a cold Chicago shower.
His bank accounts were in arrears
the biggest sum was owed to Sears.

So, fittingly, he'd wisely chosen
Sears Tower, now he was half frozen.
And, as he tried to catch the mood
he smelled a whiff of Polish food.

It had arisen from the city,
and what a godforsaken pity!
Could he not go and have a last
hot sausage? It would be a blast.

A helicopter now was drifting
across the windy city's shifting
and pregnant clouds, it hovered loudly.
So, he decided, he would, proudly,
head down below to get a taste.
But then he fell, and what a waste.