Jumping From Clouds

How do we get from here to there and there back again and somehow make sense of it all? How did we get there in the first place? Maybe we just went to sleep one night and woke up to find our dream was real and our dilemma sure. Ah, if only one knew where Jacob kept his ladder!





today,
I jumped off a cloud.
soft you suppose,
and why would I,
you wonder.

but see you here,
it is only soft from below,
as it entices your thoughts
to dangerous levels
in treachery’s drift.

to those of us
who cower
from lofty advantage,
we only see
the hard below
and the black
above.

I mused of exploration
but how does one measure
depth
of cotton mirage?

I thought of
gathering,
but my pockets laughed
and my eyes
googled the result.

I thought of breaking
it’s spirit.
rope and ride and
wrangle the yahoo!
but it slumbered
to my threat.

perhaps,
I could accouter.
a sun roof?
no,
that would be redundant.

A stereo?
the thunder would laugh.
wipers?
the rain falls down,
silly!
whitewalls?
who could tell?

I spied a girl,
in a field below.

she was spinning shitties
for no particular reason
and no obvious audience,
save me.

she had a sun roof,
a stereo that knew
Kate Wolf
and whitewalls.

she cared nothing
of the rain.

So I jumped off the cloud.

but she was too fast,
too wild,
and I missed.

Now I ride the cloud,
but I can no longer
jump off,
or know fear.

I miss the girl,
and I miss the fear.
~rick