The dripping of non-existent water
Forces my brain awake as the corn
Blows in the tired wind.
Morning has come, but day is not at the door.
Weak musings of protest escape sugar plum dreams
As 33 separate sides slink together in line and
Move along dusty carpet toward harsh reality.
Quick splash of life's nectar drips into a Colorado bowl and
Wrests focus into being.
The carnival has problems all over, but must be open.
Buttoning denim's second skin, I move through the black velvet
And begin making mountains out of molehills.
As the sun rises, my only thought is the approaching storm tearing down
The work I have done with nothing more than a careless whim.
A thought,
A whisper,
A yip, and I stand before a child of Zeus ready to do battle
Before her daughter takes leave of light and air.
Quick prayers do nothing, and the sun abandons his guard.
Rise and fall over slashed days will keep me here long after the land.
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