Incite...

Six trees in a row, and the haziness in between
The sun embarrassed by clouds lined with sheen
The air needs whiskey, for the spring has run dry
Either that or I have an urge to cry

A cloud hangs from the sky; I catch it in my eye
And rain it does, every drop steals a lasting sigh
The trees sway wanton, wind plays the whore
The gaze is emancipated, souls implore

I sit on the wall, and I see both sides
I see a car in the lake, gracefully it glides
I see an airplane crash on purpose
Must have been suicide I suppose

Six Negros stand in a row, and I stand in between
They have the soccer ball, and I have the preen
The sweat breaks on me, the ball is set to roll
Either that or my pride can’t afford the toll

I am the resurrection, I look for company
My words are useless, intellect is loony
They give me a pass, for a petty bribe
I score with delight, win their ascribe

I sit on a wall, I see inside
The car survives the glide
I see airplane has run out of air
But once on land it doesn’t seem to care