(no subject)

[arzele]

we faltered in June
and then blossomed on Jupiter
felt all the pressure come from down and around us
but still we bob in the mercury clouds
filled with wingless bats
clammed up like morning dew

every sun is red here
the postman never comes
I can't tune you in on the radio
or tell them where I'm from

a million dreams are packaged and shelved
only half as many living
can't ship myself to Bangladesh
or wake myself last morning

you may not recognize my ghost
haunting the other sides of town
yet
the windmill still spins and
Greyhounds
still
descend