When I'm Cleaning Windows

Today is a very bright day, isn’t it Mr. Sun? Oh yeah, baby, replied the sun King of all Kings. A good day for walking in a straight line to a town you’ve never seen, only in your dreams. The crooked walk with their toe-tags up, weathering it best they can, they know it doesn’t last. Nothing lasts, except for once upon a time, in a lime hall with sassafrass sashes in morning glory of deepest blue. Line up to dance the eternal dance. See all the pretty ladies lying under the ocean, hoping for a miracle. Stained glass windows sparkle into dust, throwing bricks at wristwatches, breaking face and form with a sickening dull crunch. The dewy shimmer of grass blades, taking a vow of silence so still you can hear a sin drop. The fall from grace shadows the stroke of luck, windchiming its way to stardom, starbright, first moon over seatide casting its rays over the space of twilight ammunition. Inventing new ways to say “hello” in a language no one can speak. Making bloody war with thimbles and paperclips.