Rain soaks the bone
holding the garbage bag,
fuller than a sail.
Plastic wheels click unevenly---
The professionals don't lay even asphalt.

Donning only a mismatched suit
From three stores, on sale
Insisting on exposure
The bones click,
clutching the parachute, already on the ground.

If life were a game,
my skateboard skill would be zero.

Pebbles leave a gray coat,
settling in the puff,
keeping it's hue,
while what was sanguine is diluted,
but taking more space than before.

We came out,
when our valuables were inside.
We were open,
when the metal was bolstered up,
celebrating a natural disaster.

Distant danger brings us closest,
when you are privileged.

Observation made during a storm
is never to be depended upon.

Over many days,
I learned to play in the gray.