it was just one of those things where a bunch of people think the same thing at the same time probably while working at shitty jobs or playing the starved artist somehow scraping by
like us we were sitting in vacant lots mid-city with drum-fires the smoke curling south & bumming cigs off passersby taking turns to snatch at sleep on shipwrecked couches flaky cats screeching round our feet
& just when we were on a roll passing the sickly port thinking “nowhere will ever be safer than here” four windows appear in the sky & open up the weather turning inside out clouds flipping over
and the chemical weather shopped til it dropped sucking every two-bit bargain in sight the sky stretched like a swollen eye & we tried outstaring it praying for a blink gazing at derelict heavens mesmerised like children mainlining their first Christmas
“the sky holds what kind of right?” I remember asking whoever was listening what right to smoke us out of the hole we were in oh no question we were holed but fuck me & crank the Starship Humanity the sky or whoever was cloaked in it really went to town dinner suit opera tickets & all
combusting the unworthy & all the usual biblical stuff flies dropping like um flies emergency service choppers somersaulting like plastic bags a plague of dead monkeys pissing in my hair
this wasn’t our favourite God surfing in with magic drum on his keychain that inspires flowers to change colour this was a being from one of those other humourless galaxies where no really means no
& there I was muttering what do you want, being, you want to pretty up the landscape huh & I’m coaching myself through it thinking just stay with it & man the controls brave captain
while making cute googoo gaga noises & an old adage from TV backs through my mind “go in the direction of your fear” they used to say that at the end of every show
this the final episode & if my dreams ever walk again you will arrive around dusk our hidden studio by the river with our remaining stash of light together taking one last look
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