Floating Things

Time’s gone Inside Out

heels are concrete and shoulders are flames

Time gets distorted with

so bright that they nearly match the glint of the heart-shaped helium which is attached to a string which is attached to the left hand of a stage right child

This intense gravity

the fist of the child seems out of place in the crowd of right-side-in people, but only two of the band members take notice

I don’t got time for holy rollers

the others are oblivious to the contradiction, not realizing the implications of reversal and progression meeting one another

Though they may wash my feet

they stare blankly ahead, idly strumming

And I won’t be their soldier

sweaty fingers release

 

There’s intense gravity in you

a red haze floats effortlessly up and the heavy-footed woman wells

I’m just your satellite

the sea behind her lids is reflected in the eyes of the balloon-less child

Ooh and I know that time’s gone Inside Out

but one sea is the red of a floating heart while the other is the black of nicotine infused lungs

And now it’s only like I told you

can you guys whose is who?

Mmm though they may wash my feet

though their tears are of different breeds, their feet are caked with the same thick mud

They do not make me complete

the child has already forgotten the balloon as it slips about the lowest cloud in the sky which looks like a duck or a mean old lady depending on how you look at it

 

Break out of character for me

the woman’s head is tilted to the right

Time keeps going when

her hands suddenly come up to her face

We’ve got nothing else to give

her liquid eyes are fixated on the disappearing heart

 

Ooh cause our time’s gone Inside Out

the helium heart has gone

I don’t make time for holy rollers

she turns to look at the child with a head that makes her plutonium heels seem like feathers

Mmm it’s only you I need

the child has disappeared and an old man stands in his place

They do not make me complete

the woman blinks

the lead singer bows

the old man

the child

the very idea of a human being occupying that empty space of muddy grass (or grassy mud?) evaporates as her helium-filled heart deflates

 

she grasps the inside out-ness of time

and the right side in-ness of herself

and drops to the bench behind her with a sigh,

rubbing out her muddy instep,

wishing and not wishing to share her burden with another right-side-in soul.