Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Atmosphere 20 - Polystyrene

Mood: Tired
Sound Waves: None


With a grunt,
he pulled over the plastic
covering of his lonesome
Cadillac, breathing in the quiet breeze of Spring.
The morning seemed almost perfect.

So long ago did his perfect
wife left with a disgruntled
temper on his 47th Spring.
He handled her like a plastic
doll, with misty
eyes that were lonely.

Now he felt the same loneliness
crawl into his perfect
sales manager skin, mystifying
his conscience into a grunted
mess of plastering
feelings, unable to spring.

She reminded him of poinsettias in Spring,
making her lose her loneliness
of her material plastic
desires. She was the image of perfection.
He remembered only the grumbling
day when she lift like fog's mist.

He tries with all his might to stop the mist
from blinding his eyes. He wanted Spring
to not begin so disgruntled.
How could he when his loneliness
won him out of any perfect
situation? It was the fault of that doll of plastic.

That was a year ago. Now her plastic
eyes greet his with a new kind of mist
covering her sight. She looked like the same perfect
image like before, as if Spring
came early, right on time. He felt the loneliness
lift away, with it, his fury ending in a grunt.

His 48th Spring came, and with a grunt.
he welcomed the perfect angel like a plastic doll.
Again, the lonesome melody emerged from past mists.

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