Watching

the sky bereft of clouds

filled totally with azurite

little parachutes drifting down, down,

its warm enough, quiet enough,

for the dream to form but not to change

and I realize more than money

can be exchanged in places where the dog runs

but why don’t we feel compassion for the dog?

the circus man cracks his whip

and the energy is gone, as if

it had washed away in a giant sink hole

so where are we now?  how much we don’t know

let alone what anyone knows

so it all comes down in the rain

like a belligerent teenage boy

challenging the truth, the fly by night owls

or whoever is watching, watching closely