there is an ocean above Chicago.
murky and pale, mountains arise from clouds,
and your name is too far away to matter.

a razor thin plane of orange light
separates clarity from muddly,
encrusts the globe,
and i can see it all:
even from thousands of feet away
you've made a rainbow.

don't save me. don't be guilty.
my keepers are right outside:
black on black, patrolling the sky.
and there is no more separation
between clarity and muddly,
because the sun has set into California,
and every shape is lost in obscurity,
dim.

you are this: a journey into darkness,
through blue with cracks of orange
to something blackened and obsolete.


-bronnie


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