2amvacant eyes stare at. stars twinkling, juxtaposed against the smuggish air-
barely moving.
but sounds, they accost like hornets
in the bonnet; the
quiescent night shattered
by the rebarbative (pre-coital) calls
of crickets and the tick-
tock droplets from the
midnight rain
till the voice
of consciousness come
trickling in from
oblivion.
Then a plane crashesintothe starscolliding;frictionburning- a swelteringexplosion of sorts as torrid rain splashed across the skies
obliterating staidnessand decibels shooting
hoopsthatyoucan'tseemtohearyourselfnomore.
cuRRent...jer