My sun-scorched back tingles pin-point waves of, not quite pain--distress--as I settle back onto this memory-stained slab of concrete.
Puffing on a dark-green American Spirit, I relax, taking stalk of the monumentous armada above.

Letting go of all focus from my vision in an attempt to take in the world summons forth an arrayed troupe of points
Though, they're not that, per se, more like minute splashes along the clouds' surface.
They don't remain stationary for long.
Suddenly aware of an audience, they get the show rolling.
Center stage, a forceful spiral forms, slowly whirl-pooling the others
Gravity's on theirs ***** now, they get close, slingshot, rinse and repeat.
Individual groups pinch together and blow apart.

The performance humbles me, forcing me to take responsibility for my actions,
For straight A's popped,  
Living wills written on concrete slabs, while puffing a light-green American Spirit.