It's a sad day
When the sun goes
When the moon dies
And all that lights your world
Is the thin glow of florescents.

The world seems
Upside-down
Read  right-to-left
Gone is all.

A miracle  streams
From behind those monolithic clouds,
A wall of grey,
Slicing with thin wisps of wind,
Sharp against my face,
Stinting my arm,
A red release
That flows down my arm,
Swiveling past
The little hairs,
Ducking and diving
Around the pale skin,
Trickling down
Until the waves come,
A tidal wave
Sweeping the red jerseys
Off of the playing field.

Now
That the clear water
Has gone.

Now
The salted water,
Made quicker to boil,
More bitter than pure vanilla
Or Al Gore in January, 2001.

Now
It falls down,
A slow drip-drop
As the stony walls
Try
To  push it back.
Stone should not cry.