Millie has defeated the Dark Solarian and the kilowasp, and there is nothing more to say. Part 1 is here.
From the rooftop, down and down
the silent page we went. I heard
the hisses of an elsewhere night;
shoreward waves derailed
from their sea tracks
to crash against graffitied cliffs;
and a lackadaisical buzzing
that occupied the plaintive gaps
between my thoughts.
coffee garden communicatrix
<a sparrow filled with helium, flying far and low,
I chased my life but didn’t catch it>
<the Café Économique has no fundamental nature,
it was sifted from the air of Sheridarp>
<don’t try to hide, Solarian fanboy, I see your staring
at her Moiré fringes, her spectral interference pattern>
<attend the sparrows, my little waifs,
they march in tight formation
from one cake to the next>
<first instincts wound us, our springs uncoil;
the wrong questions, inedible and indelible,
must still be asked>
I sighed, and lazy feathers wafted from my lips.
It was a tale of the future, of dreams and longings,
re-weavings of our personal helioscopes.
But Millie knew my secrets.
You didn’t write that, you never could.
I coughed up a little ash.
My story was the reverse of dreams:
a reinvention of our yesterdays,
how we came to be here,
Buzzing silver bees were orbiting Millie
in tight ellipses, collecting or returning something.
Contextual truth is no-one’s forte,
but do they matter, the pathways
to our intersection?
We’re together now,
with time enough,
with the light of the golden penguin
shining down on us.
A sparrow carried off my cinnamon toast.
artwork anything (detail) (detail above) made from clouds with VEE, the visual evolution engine.