3820. UNMARKED BY DALLIANCE

UNMARKED BY DALLIANCE

(living rich)

There's no one as special as the one with no

aim; running forward to dodge the careening ball.

He's the fellow with the pure apple-gumption.

No words needed  -  language is nothing but

a bore and a barrier to anything left. I only

wish there was more time, and time again.

-

Look, smart man, you've got your feet up on the

table and nothing seems to matter to you at all.

Even in this early morning light you sit, traduced

by a grave composure and senselessly sure of

all things : the mortgage, the weather, the car,

the schedule, the soon-arriving doom as well.

-

Up high, someone's festive balloon has escaped

from yesterday and landed, as it were, caught

up in the limbs of that oak. Too bad  -  silver

like that looks out of place everywhere it goes.

Much like happiness at a funeral, or maybe

tears as wedding. The same. In any case,

I tired of all that rubble wherever it goes.

-

Up, way up, and over all that, another

silver pierces silently the expectant sky:

the world's vague airlines, spoofing the

world we know, send their jets wherever

and anywhere they choose to go.