Hot Air Balloon
A crashing hot air balloon descends upon an onlooking crowd.
Gary thinks to himself, I’m a money lender. A real somebody.
He watches the wreckage with pennies on his eyes.
A woman runs past him, her jacket swishing against itself.
The sound reminds Gary of a flag waving
sharp on an iron pole,
wind beating up trash bags full of
lawn clippings and weeds.
Gary’s armpits beaded sweat,
drips of dried salty water like his
own mother’s tears. The kind of tears that were
dark like the primeval forests of folklore, or
outliving your children.
Gary thinks to himself, I’m a money lender. A real somebody.
He watches the wreckage with pennies on his eyes.
A woman runs past him, her jacket swishing against itself.
The sound reminds Gary of a flag waving
sharp on an iron pole,
wind beating up trash bags full of
lawn clippings and weeds.
Gary’s armpits beaded sweat,
drips of dried salty water like his
own mother’s tears. The kind of tears that were
dark like the primeval forests of folklore, or
outliving your children.
posted by Neil Kelly at 11:25 PM
2 Comments:
That's some convoluted mind you've got there. This is stream of consciousness stuff? Or a memory of a woman who exists in your reality?
not sure. just started going with whatever oozed from mind to fingers.
Post a Comment
<< Home