rkross
He lived for a century
not a day more or less
but he died a century
with many more days ahead
Staring out the window,
the pane foggy from my breath
I watched little cities like little lights
disappear into the mountains,
which in their time too left
in the fog of early morning
For a while we shot them
at each other
at ourselves
watching them explode
but then we let them sit
let them corrode
into red rusts of apples and oranges
that fed more than destroyed
Some things just don't go in a sandwich
like love and mustard
or hot sauce and sanity
She let it go,
tossed that string to the wind,
watched it sail beyond her sight,
the red triangle,
tapered to the breeze,
gone, lost to river of sky,
sailing onward
She let it go.
The balloon rose
more like a jet than a balloon
it just took off
with steam rising from its stringy tail
as if a propellor pulled it toward the moon