Did I tell you I think I’m in love with
a certain type of cloud?
I watch it take shape: blur, smudge
of vapor to cotton configuration.
There is a coterie that loves this as well.
We stop our cars beneath the sky,
get out and watch it pass by as it
lags, shuffles, dawdles.
During our dutiful day where we
drink so much coffee that our body quakes,
there’s a line of cars on the highway,
the drivers transfixed standing outside with one elbow
on the roof, their head leaning into their hand.
The radio announces back ups for miles.
Saying we are all an inch
away from heaven.

11/02/2006

Posted on 11/02/2006
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