Showman’s Eclipse

Stoccatic sounds that make my stomach rumble.
All we do is look up at the stars and make sound our fervour.
If the clouds came we’d all be stuck in the cold
lying about our day jobs and
rolling our eyes at every other perfect moment.
Sipping lemonade that is too sour
though nobody mentions it.
The night is clear and we chase invisible fireworks
from the sky with our clouds of bungled breath.
Don’t ask me if I’m glad we came.
All we’re left with, once the necessary time has passed,
is a queue of barking dogs and a stale burger bun.
It was fun while it lasted.
Take a bow.

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