h1

Clouds

August 26, 2005

1/1/1984

When I fly above,
the clouds form
billowing shapes
that drift by…

a person here,
a mountain there
a shopper buying
his daily wares.

But only I see these shapes.
Everyone else is blind to them.
And though I know my mind overworks
I want to throw open my arms in welcome.

When I fly above the clouds they form
hypnotic strangers, atomic dangers, billowing creatures.

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