My Palm Tree

Brick-bakeries Baking in the sun Watched from moving metal kilns Moving? Perhaps. But getting nowhere. Sudden stops in the wild. The train runs late. Brick-bakeries Baking in the sun Watched from moving metal kilns Moving? Perhaps. But getting nowhere. Sudden stops in the wild. The train runs late. The Sun beats down; The dead leaves stir; Crows caw. A babble of voices A total chaos Cacophony? The Sky darkens Clouds threaten. Thunder roars, mycoplasmosis rolls. People hurry Not all. And then it rains. It pours Bucketsful. An hour. Two. Wet people, wet earth, wet buffaloes, wet leaves, wet roads, wet wet It pours on. The heat seeps in. Throat dries up And so does the rain. No longer Can I hold the illusion. Hunger, sleep, Pure boredom Listening to the same old songs The same old words. I get up - It's time to go Brick-bakeries Baking in the sun Watched from moving metal kilns Moving? Perhaps. But getting nowhere. Sudden stops in the wild. The train runs late. The Sun beats down; The dead leaves stir; Crows caw. A babble of voices A total chaos Cacophony? The Sky darkens Clouds threaten. Thunder roars, mycoplasmosis rolls. People hurry Not all. And then it rains. It pours Bucketsful. An hour. Two. Wet people, wet earth, wet buffaloes, wet leaves, wet roads, wet wet It pours on. The heat seeps in. Throat dries up And so does the rain. No longer Can I hold the illusion. Hunger, sleep, Pure boredom Listening to the same old songs The same old words. I get up - It's time to go The Sun beats down; The dead leaves stir; Crows caw. A babble of voices A total chaos Cacophony? The Sky darkens Clouds threaten. Thunder roars, mycoplasmosis rolls. People hurry Not all. And then it rains. It pours Bucketsful. An hour. Two. Wet people, wet earth, wet buffaloes, wet leaves, wet roads, wet wet It pours on. The heat seeps in. Throat dries up And so does the rain. No longer Can I hold the illusion. Hunger, sleep, Pure boredom Listening to the same old songs The same old words. I get up - It's time to go And the sun went down. We sat in the twilight He and he and she and She And of course, health I. The ducks Splashed about. The peacocks, hoarsely Claimed territory And of course Their mates. A gust of wind A rustling of leaves A Solitary crow Late for some evening Appointment. Disappointment? And the moon came Up and up slowly Slowly Slowly Slow... ...ly As we watched The ducks flew home. Brick-bakeries Baking in the sun Watched from moving metal kilns Moving? Perhaps. But getting nowhere. Sudden stops in the wild. The train runs late. The Sun beats down; The dead leaves stir; Crows caw. A babble of voices A total chaos Cacophony? The Sky darkens Clouds threaten. Thunder roars, mycoplasmosis rolls. People hurry Not all. And then it rains. It pours Bucketsful. An hour. Two. Wet people, wet earth, wet buffaloes, wet leaves, wet roads, wet wet It pours on. The heat seeps in. Throat dries up And so does the rain. No longer Can I hold the illusion. Hunger, sleep, Pure boredom Listening to the same old songs The same old words. I get up - It's time to go The Sun beats down; The dead leaves stir; Crows caw. A babble of voices A total chaos Cacophony? The Sky darkens Clouds threaten. Thunder roars, mycoplasmosis rolls. People hurry Not all. And then it rains. It pours Bucketsful. An hour. Two. Wet people, wet earth, wet buffaloes, wet leaves, wet roads, wet wet It pours on. The heat seeps in. Throat dries up And so does the rain. No longer Can I hold the illusion. Hunger, sleep, Pure boredom Listening to the same old songs The same old words. I get up - It's time to go And the sun went down. We sat in the twilight He and he and she and She And of course, health I. The ducks Splashed about. The peacocks, hoarsely Claimed territory And of course Their mates. A gust of wind A rustling of leaves A Solitary crow Late for some evening Appointment. Disappointment? And the moon came Up and up slowly Slowly Slowly Slow... ...ly As we watched The ducks flew home. I sit on a palm tree a tall palm tree centuries old legacy of a thousand births legacy of the land of a thousand palms migrations to the big city migrations across seas across oceans and still, tadalafil I sit on the palm tree wherever I go I take the palm tree along I think it belongs to me it thinks I belong to it But I know that neither is real I like to believe that the palm tree puts things in perspective being high up in it, gerontologist I think I can see better, farther while all the while, all I see are palm fronds and of course, other palm trees I sit on the palm tree afraid to come down unwilling to come down I populate universities appreciate art comment on the state of affairs from the safety of my palm tree I travel the world untouched by it protected by my palm tree I hate my palm tree but I don't come down because it can't leave me and I can't leave it.