The Front Window Cogitation
The Front Window Cogitation
By Sy Roth
Observed the others drowning in their tears.
A pasty rain inks the front window
Sad remnants of a broken sky in Kandinsky splashes
Marked on an ancient, bubble-blown glass.
Outside cars distorted,
People amble in sodden abandonment,
Shuffling along with the meanderings of their misshapen dogs
dragging their owners, who
clutch white-plastic bags filled with their
tick-tocking seconds off their tick-tock lives.
A mushroom cloud of moon splashes the sky white,
As they galumph slowly by,
These sloths in inches of time,
Their microseconds stretching to breaking.
Inundated by an invasion of seconds,
Gestating in a mitosis of time
Set to implode—
Or explode in a parade of Krakatoa rains—
A burst breaks the sky in half
Remnants of rain drip off bent grasses.
Along the slippery, bubble-blown glass
Smudged to icy, crystalline imprecision,
Thoughts melt into a frothy latte foam
Consternation of the other on the inside.
Looking out.
Brief quiescence returns, when
The bleating window screams of malformed ideas
Converted into dormant, spent lovers.
The quislings wither,
Mesmerized by the swinging bags of ,
Overflowing in a Mauna Loa of lava laved
And the inside begins to die in the fog.
Copyright © Sy Roth | Year Posted 2022
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