He kept his paper
on a leash and tossed it
into the thick
atmosphere for the clouds
to compose stories
using helicopter pens
and drip-droplets of
ink. When they found
the right words, they tossed
it back with a gust of hearty
adjectives and unused pronouns;
but the cumulus fool
destroyed the boy and his
kite
by sending it into his
mother’s favorite
twisted willow.