Код Поэзии — По разные стороны

Perched on a chimney's broken edge.
Dust in my skin, wind in my ribs.
The moon hangs low above the blocks.
White car in a silent sky.
I know you see the same pale light
From your warm and quiet cell.
Same moon over both our backs.
But night don't fall the same for us.
Under the same moon we stand.
Different roofs, different worlds.