xx's Friends

above and beyond the balloon- and she watched- and the balloon it went, probably it was yellow or red or maybe even magenta, black it went and floated upwards diagonally across the sky cut by electrical wires and jabbed by buildings, it was and it-the other- and it the balloon went as she watched. it went free and accordingly. it went with the wind, as she thought they said, so very contained in its hand-less and fist-less tail. oh boy.
those cars always turn into the wrong lane, she thought, and they go for so fucking long in the wrong lane. isn't that the courthouse?
balloon and the protruding courthouse- of law, she thought. court of, not tennis, not flirtation like "and the man engaged in an unabashed bout of courting and salutation," but of L-A-W, whatever happens there.
slowly and lethargically the balloon went on its way as if it was invested, almost perceptively to the passer-by, with metaphysical meaning- as she watched and like maybe, if my second eye goes off as i am watching, it means that maybe it'll hit that lawful spear and pop- not that i'd see it pop, she thought, being so far away judging by how big by the lines those cars crossing those lines those cars crossing right where the balloon is a bit left by my judgment- my field of vision.

those cars always disobey right there by where people are judged and left of my balloon. i am not being or doing illegal, she thought, where they judge but do not apprehend. i am apprehended, always, where they watch but do not proclaim judgment. there is always separation and application separated.

that is why my balloon doesn't pop, even when it is warm outside.

Advertisement