From a height, the rain

Coming down to see you at the edge of the lawn
where the trees twist and burn the air
insects gather to plan their escape

That child holding the string to the helium balloon
waiting at the boundary for the musk drowned
ripples across the lake

The joy of speaking when there are bounced
citizens gathered outside, the night doors closed
on their humble stair climb sticky black foil steps
never try the daytime in the box
when they turn off the disco light

It is not as violent as you wished
the dreams cast as strips of paint peeled from the wall
the constant walking and arrival over the next rise

Those days ended with fried vision
spent on the spineless havoc spin