Wednesday, March 2, 2011

25 short

soft threads of metal
coiling around me, tight
keeping the cold winter's morn
from touching me with its icy fingers

soft threads of metal
wrap around my head
sneak into my ears
massage my mind

peals of thunder
stones of hail pelting asphalt
peals of thunder

rains pour down
filling the gutter
traversed by oily skin
dirty rainbow tendrils sliding smoothly past

huge bubbles form in the gutter
rise up, as from the bottom inner edges of a soda can
each bubble climbing and meeting a line
streaking down from the clouds

the hotel clambers to a halt
throws open its double doors
we rise up into the warm lobby on the red carpet

[context]

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