On the t.v. screen
“What a beautiful day”,
informed the weather-man,
so it must be as he says,
now I’m stretched out on
this green ass lawn with
only shorts, beautiful day?
the sun is like the red iron
at the bottom of the oven,
and I’m the yellow corn bread
getting baked into a golden
brown crisp, then old miss
Robinson walks by, dry as a
stick, with her golden retreiver
Jenkins, glad she doesn’t sun
bathe anymore, back to my
relaxation, the sun just seems
to be getting hotter, then
the grass starts to turn
brown as well, till the tips
produce fire, I’m fine though,
not for long anyways cause
this sun’s just getting hotter!
suddenly it turns for orange
to red, and the clouds are
like yellow cotton-candy, the
blue background of the sky
turns dark green, the ray
from the sun’s like a laser
beam pointed right at me,
now my whole body’s
engulfed in the beam! I’m
being drawn upwards!
into the sun! my brown
roof! miss Robinson’s house!
so high! the earth is like a marble!
the sun is so close, a ball of
pure red, swirled around by orange
flames, the warmth, like returning
home from a long day of work,
father, I, I and my father I
one
