The beautiful clouds they spew in the cold.
A blotch of earth. A wild forsythia. Yellow.
A factory calmly rises and falls.
It is taken back as soon as it is given
Fortune and favor, hard hats, bubbles
I can feel them still
Are you selling enough product?
Bright spots, with clumps of grey-blue
I am pretending not to notice.
This continues for several hundred pages.
There is a feeling I am walking around
A destructive assault on the mind.
The children want you to go back to the box
Where the toy thoughts are kept.
This is the bitter one
I ordered the silky butter nut!
Your attention drifting back to the sky