Paul waits for Blake Biegler in the dusty field behind the school. Biegler is ten minutes late. He pokes his fingers through the chainlink, staring beyond the suicide barriers toward Golden Lakes. The ... [+]
Blue has come to visit my hometown,
The unwelcome visitor leaves bookmarks on the worn cobblestone,
I watch children flee to their mothers,
Panic painting their face like a lion at a state fair.
And within their mother's embrace,
They feel the wind as blue wrecks through century old foundations,
I hide in my house,
The sturdiest building in town, built by my own two hands.
I sit by the bay windows,
Made to let in warm midsummer rays,
I watch that light turn green,
But my house does not falter,
Does not crumble.
I appreciate the way the house only sways,
I keep time to the beat of my decorations slamming against the walls,
I watch, silent,
And can only hope to recognize the beauty as the storm passes.
The unwelcome visitor leaves bookmarks on the worn cobblestone,
I watch children flee to their mothers,
Panic painting their face like a lion at a state fair.
And within their mother's embrace,
They feel the wind as blue wrecks through century old foundations,
I hide in my house,
The sturdiest building in town, built by my own two hands.
I sit by the bay windows,
Made to let in warm midsummer rays,
I watch that light turn green,
But my house does not falter,
Does not crumble.
I appreciate the way the house only sways,
I keep time to the beat of my decorations slamming against the walls,
I watch, silent,
And can only hope to recognize the beauty as the storm passes.