She was the giving kind
as she wondered at lunchtime
in the shadow of the storm
as she stared at the wayward clouds
what they saw
when they looked down:
Droplets of humanity
swarming into their humungous schools
in plazas
and parking lots,
what must we seem
to gods with such aptitude for shape?
Obtuse images of dragons
puppy dogs, elephants
fat fairy tale refugees
faces of old lovers
or perhaps
just another passing cloud
like them
mindless of these fancies and masquerades
only making their way
through the blue
on their way to the next rain.
---
This one's just full of mysteries. I have a fuzzy recall on exactly how this title got picked, or who picked it. It obviously wasn't literally inspired, as anyone who was actually under the sky during Fringe can tell you. But that's all secondary to the main question:
Exactly what kind of fluffy Bob Ross bullshit was I trying to write here?
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2 comments:
Huh, I was trying to figure out who wrote this one, and I would not have guessed you, Tod. It's got a nice, light touch to it, though I think I know where the fat puppy dog image came from.
shaz
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