dripping drops of
colored lollipops, in banana,
cherry, apple and grape. Crinkled
as a crepe, swirling on

the bottom as the leaves
in autumn. None cannot turn their head
to the plop, plop, plop. Dancing, glimmering
beads bop sticking to the surface. I’m a

circus show in monotone. This is
my home. I’m thrown together as  
the clouds. But underneath soft
as down. High on the mountain

of my pain, I’ll gush out as
a waterfall in the rain. Men, woman
and children can swim in my tears,
bathe in my sweat and bask in my fears.