They look in their sky light garments
armies of cackling oddities
they busy those mouths with words
and I laugh somewhere deep.

They draw lines on graphs like old teachers
it reminds me of the cracked slate on
the torture table and I smile with memories
of my pal in the thin dress of summer.

Her name escapes me and they will never know
but I danced with her once upon a cloud
on a stage made for celebrities at five
yesterday I think or perhaps centuries ago.

They seem concerned and speak nonsense
blind it seems and they affirm it is they who
looking forward to what they think uncertain
have a clear vision of a day in clear pastures.

The walls are just too sterile for me to care
any more than perhaps eons ago I did
for I live in parallel universes my own
they may think it crazy; I am just having fun.

Photo by king Siberia from Pexels