Lucy is not in the sky
like you were told.
Her feet or on the ground
holding a piece of coal.

The rocking horse people
took her diamond away
and smeared marshmallow pie
across her narrow face.

The marmalade sky’s
ozone has disintegrated,
from the fumes of cellophane  
the flowers created.

The tangerine trees
turned to rust,
from newspaper taxis
exhaust pipe dust.

The girl with kaleidoscope eyes,
takes Prozac every day.  
She stays comfortably numb,
keeping despondency at bay.