Trade of Truancy

That day the sky was intensely blue. And the smoke would contrast the future. There would appear its signs – amidst the twin-buildings opposite our glassy refuge. And it hung low and multi-storiedly, concrete, yet abstract. Then it would ascend, slowly, lazily, up and away. So cocky, nippling out, it pushed itself to do its best to make its way. Towards the azure projection of my inflamed soul, deep in its drowsy stillness. Mine turned into a mirror, to reflect it back into the stream of wheels. Both of us imbibing soothing salvatory mate, sipping at leisure the bebida through obscurely carved bombillas – slurp-slurp – who’s up there?

- Well, well, burlesque cirri seducing volcanoes, I guess.

March 19, 2012