(he’s decided to be a devil for this evening
and funny, isn’t it, how the sun is a man
and i see a goddess in the moon’s rabbit mask)
and the burning bowl has been turned over to cover
the ocean’s expanse and begins a fire in the sky;
the heat gives way to a fresco new canvas,
and a blue pickup truck drives by…


the clouds are now a pale grey blue color, sort of
like that sweatshirt you got in cape cod, that
weird fleecy blue color that just became more
itself as the years of washing machines went
by and now the focus is auditory, listening to the
crashing horizon and a parrot trilling “burrrro,”
and then the parrot is laughing, it’s his bedtime,
and he’s generally amused…


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