Not quite dancing, but not quite laughing either,

I can see the the head and the necks of dinosaurs off in the distance,

no wait

Those are the tops of cranes…

Which I extend my very own neck to see,

I peek my head around corners, to assess,

to correlate,

to congregate.

My neck is frequently on full display, with the rubies and the emeralds of the world.

Which takes a great deal of balance and bravery,

Thats all it takes,

Balance and eventually.

There are so many birds in the sky,

somethings just need to be said.

I’ll never see again,

but at least I can swim,

at least I wont drown in the puddles.,

in the craters.

It would be best to protect your sides from passing cars

and

enemy gunfire,

as well as

staggering clifftops and sweltering suns, too.

You can radio for help but no one will respond, you are all alone out here,

on highways,

on islands,

and I’ll still never see again.

Exposed and submerged,

on highways,

on islands,

and you’ll melt too,

everything melts.

The things you thought your search history forgot,

are nothing but roses now,

The laundry you dropped behind the dryer,

will one day be roses as well.

You’ll remember the noble beasts and the black stars,

and you’ll remember them mostly as roses.

If you take off your glasses you could actually see them,

if you take off your helmet you could actually feel them,

the shadows, they are closing in.

As they crescendo,

as they dance,

and the rest of the roses bloom.

I still cant see them, and thankfully, the shadows cant swim, either.

I am in the deep end,

floating,

laughing,

laughing,

floating.

I can smell the roses.

The shadows occur when things die,

when you have spilled something on them,

poured water onto roaring flame.

You have spilled something in the pool,

the pool in which I inhabit.

You were careless with your glasses,

and with your liquids,

and your roses, too.

and they’ll melt,,,,,,,,,,

Those things are alive and buzzing now,

the shadows,

swimming now,

circling around me now,

like sharks,,,,

like daggers,,,,,

Those things you forgot and neglected,

those things you saw from your balcony,

those things you threw from your balcony,

the things that are now blowing in the breeze,

they were anything but tumbleweeds.

those were the roses.

Now here they are, ready to get up and have breakfast with you,

shadows and ghosts,

and you will have the coffee ready,

and they’ll have their feet up, too.

They are ready to grow old with you.

Ready to use your water, and your blender.

You’ll have to feed them, and groom them,

and make their smoothies.

and pick up the pieces when they fall apart,

when they melt,

when you smile

when you melt.