The Drowning Illusion

Skin like flames, hot as garbage.
I think of you
and uncontrollable sadness
seems to turn the world
into a drowning illusion.

And,

We shouldn't have to be jealous
of the movie stars anymore. Nobody
died that day.
I think
of the old lady
who chased down a bus
dropped her eggs on the cement
and returned to find a bag full of shattered shell
and yellowing goo.

I think of the shattering
of the old television screens
breaking out like a rash of static.

I think of medicine and ointments,
the smearing creams, the cosmetics
like clay glaze or Van Gogh's
"emerald green"

I think of forests with broken egg shells
tossed like salads, the browning(upturned) roots
like a badly-burnt hash brown

and…!

I shouldn't have to be jealous anymore!

I'm sitting alone by my laptop
humming along
so quietly
I
may well be
the last letter in a mail carrier's bag.

Or just that rainbow
floating over the grassy world
all hung up
about seven colors.