a great performance

Maybe the clouds had a point. “It’s a wonderful life,” They sang, in godly choir chorus. I look at the calendar— Another week in ember, and no time for theatre. My gaze drifts down the road— A plastic bag lifts off the old brick pavement. It c s o l i in the air just enough to dodge the screeching tires. I watched for so long I missed my class. Such a silly reason, but on my note I wrote: I was late, because a plastic bag was doing ballet— and someone had to see it.