A dark, disciplined cloud
rolled into town, and I knew I gotta
run for cover.
Inside the terminal she finally
sighed “I’m looking for a ride but
not a lover.”
Heavy raindrops drowned
the sound of the chomp, though her
crocodile bag was packed.
“I ran far and away, now it’s
late, I must stay” and so
she took it back.
The purse on the floor
more alien than before its leather
tongue held still.
“Wait for me, please, til
the darkness leaves” now I know
it never will.
My umbrella I gave her hoping
that it could save her though I then
couldn’t keep the rain off me.
Since the cloud made its home in
the sky where I roam I’ll just sit
here, alone with my coffee.
***** ***** *****
I found this funny. Therefore, you must too: Whenever I add photos to my posts, I perform a simple Google Image search for something in the post that I feel will add to the experience. I do this for you, gentle reader. Because I love you. Anyway, I spent most of yesterday in a fog, slept poorly, and when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t shake the images contained in the “poem” you see above. I’ve always said that there’s a dark cloud over my head, yet somehow the sun is always in my eye. Boo fucking hoo. I know. But still, after I wrote this piece, I searched “storm front” because that’s what I felt would best capture the mood. I like the picture, a sole sailboat about to get pummelled by that storm; you can feel the electricity descending from those clouds, an ionic stillbreeze that fills the passengers of that vessel with dread, right? While conducting my search I found the below photo. I just find it funny and strange that a guy named Butcher wrote a book called Storm Front. Granted, anything is possible. You know how I enjoy this shit. Thank you, as always. I really do love you.
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