CAT One
Come and look to the noonday skies
where the illimitable banks lay upon each other
in white vaults crinkled and ridged and imperfect
(because we would be most worried if the sky above was perfect)
to count the analog seconds and shoot the breeze like pros,
insatiable grey fuming above our heads, an insidious invasion
of all-too-colourful blue and white like a photocopier beserk
We feel it better than meteorology can ever provide
because that's how we are. When we are lonely, we feel closer;
in the smell of sea-salt and damp air, so incredibly calm it infuriates
So, beloved, I offer you this: A selection on the palette of my tongue,
a few shades of grey for your indulgence. I am sorry I cannot give more
but I will do this as sincerest penitence. Pick one as your prize, any one
and we can colour in the sky together.