the wispy whiteness draped over the dome of the sky traps in the monstrous feelings loosed from their cages towards the heavens,
reflecting ghoulish mirrors
and refracting the light into saturated hues and heavy-soaked textured clues,
misty condensation of mis-matched questions and answers
muttered to no one in particular,
holding everything in the capsule with dewy fingers slipping at the pocket-knife edges and broken oak branches,
the bark is drunk on acid rain humming oh danny boy again and again,
the clouds are so convinced they love the asphalt
that the whole host has descended from perching atop the dome to bless the wedding of fog to pavement,
croaking bullfrogs make harmonies with the swoosh-swoosh swoosh-swoosh of tires running over rolling over pouring over the beaten concrete creases squeaking teases of open-air releases,
the whole world simultaneously holds it's breath and sighs,
as countless pairs of eyes haze over
in wistful wanting piqued by a wet world.