an afternoon spent sitting in brooklyn,
with its fading away,
its slow
beckoning of cool dark skies,
of forlorn clouds of smog,
clouds of people floating freely
past the waning sun.
sitting fairly still and rather alone,
left-hand best friend
kills me
with its tasty flow,
its beautiful fluidity,
and its very sensual dance.
the clouds billow in faster,
standard issue grey
brightened and highlighted
by the lavenders and peaches of pollution,
shaped like a catfish
and trailed slowly by steady wisps
of talons,
followed next by the gaping jaws
of some reptile,
its single-clawed arm
pointing playfully forward.
