A bullet of sunlight pierces the clouds; golden heaven touches ground I see that childhood toy that hangs above the crib and spins around Except it is suspended from a golden yellow sky With paper mache animals and gargoyles hoisted from it The golden Porsche makes its way up a Great Plains highway Glaring sunlight from its grill We never get a glimpse but there is the suspense Of being hunted by a freak
Posted on: Mon, 18 Aug 2014 00:47:55 +0000