Verse: Clouds

what is it
the French call it
barbe a papa

it is
such an evocative
image

reminds me
of the midway
roly poly vendors

and those wisps
of spun sugar
that melt in your mouth

winding around
the cardboard tube
like strands of hair

it's such
an easy comparison
don't you think

let's say
they're like boats
unmoored

waiting only
for the wind
to catch their sails

and send them
drifting across
the borderless blue

until
they have vanished
from sight

i doubt that
they'll take much notice
of us as they pass by

safe here on shore
even the rain
doesn't know where we are