The Sun Scalding the Little Day

So you promise we won’t die

A flashing bolt

A sudden kiss

Just laid onto the page

Just there you say

In whatever form

We can find it

Perhaps like a snow fart

Perhaps a tiny city

Drowned in a snow globe

Shake well touch on

Anonymously statuary

Watches us you say

The way we look

Our faces

Emblems of weary futurism

All winky and all kissy

All wet with digital ink

This isn’t paradise

It’s just another way of saying

Clouds consist entirely

Of ice-crystals 

And lateness

You say isn’t just

A book of poems

David Shapiro wrote

No way not at all

It’s also colors

We see through waves

As we stand by the balustrade
Admitting that this hotel 

Will be the death of us