Poetry in April -- in celebration
| "Someone left the cake out in the rain - I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it - And I'll never have that recipe again, oh noooooo"
In the book of clouds, someone's turning pages,
making rattling sounds,
reminding me of a time I was alone in the city,
a pallid, timid toad inside a net,
stranded among crowds, splashed on by taxis,
while rain rang a thousand parables on sidewalks
and at the pier, boats' wails surged, undulating
through salty waves, chillier than the icy wind
wandering in circles, swirling,
to wrap around my washed-out world.