There's a jungle silence tonight.
The angry orange sun is low in the sky
Quivering in the gelatin air, sluggishly setting.
Cars rattle on the pavement like half-mad animals
And I hang limply to the steering wheel, drawing slow breaths,
Listening for a sound of thunder in the reverberating quiet.
There is nothing but the distant whine of sirens,
And the backwards static of the radio.
Only a red crescent of the sun remains,
Pierced on a church steeple and sinking slowly.
Aug 15, 2010
Aug 15, 2010 at 9:05 AM UTC
There's a jungle silence tonight.
The angry orange sun is low in the sky
Quivering in the gelatin air, sluggishly setting.
Cars rattle on the pavement like half-mad animals
And I hang limply to the steering wheel, drawing slow breaths,
Listening for a sound of thunder in the reverberating quiet.
There is nothing but the distant whine of sirens,
And the backwards static of the radio.
Only a red crescent of the sun remains,
Pierced on a church steeple and sinking slowly.
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