Drops of water's wet, squeaky rubber mat
Drying with sun's blankets, fluffy cumulus clouds
Rising in air's brisk, minty breath, crystalline silk
And conglomerated reproduction in glossy beakers, 250 mL
Angry with fear, falling face first fastened frightfully
Freeze and explode in a parachute of geometric fabric
Then,
Glide...Glide..Glide
Down
Down
Down
Resting stiffly and slanted
And buried in phases till dark, cold cave stillness, serene
And warm liquidy cream of orange bands, streaking yellow and blue
Gently slice, freeing patterns of pure violet puddle pockets
Slowly gravitating, burning striped trails down to cement and spongy soup grass
Pulling Down
Down
Down
Then sucked up Up UP into yellow green tubing plastic
Feeding in skylighted laboratory mixing pot of orange and blue with yellow turning maroon in fluttering jubilation exultation.
Smiling cheddar yellow smiles of one thousand teeth and purple eyelashes under crispy warm blue spiked hair.
Children noose fingers stranglehold life supply removing tubing from generator and coughing bowing sadness of sun setting despair.
Holy Colorgasm, Huron! Nice. This makes me feel like e.e. cummings spent an evening on opium and absinthe listening to jackson pollock sing a song about water.
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