shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Adele Evershed

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Storm Troopers

Think about the despondency of clouds
Moving behind enemy lines in straggling tobaccoy wisps
Only to discover the smeared figures are just boys-doppelgängers of all the others passed over
Those who will never be graced with a peaceful old age even if they live to collect a pension
So they storm and rage in purple plumes of arteries against a blinding sky
Chucking down rain to purify and stop the waste but only succeeding in making infamous, inglorious, mud
While other clouds-contrailing lilacs and subterfuge- mass and halo alternative futures
And there on the sticky field nobody can tell or care which clouds are blotting out the sun