Matted weave of gridlocked avenues,
mud of gripping alligator tires,
extraterrestrial preyings;
masks make them
somewhat blind
as droll rolls away with wasted time.
Gods toss offerings to greedy creations;
fleur de lis hails
crown the multitude
as lawns morph to gravy
under merry uplifted arms.
What is lent
is cloudseed
for reciprocity: a burgeoning levy
behind each foremost thought.
Pompom chickens
and surly clowns pass by:
extraterrestrials praying,
their jewelry drooping
in wind-dancing palms.
Featured art: Death of Childhood, by Tim Lane.
Image used with permission from the artist.