It came arching over

mid-afternoon spring's dream
arranged in the crooked strewn
soda straws I spilt in my hurry;
to rickshaw myself to the midst
of un-understandable rubble
on the debris of which people
orated around to the circle.
The curious circumference
stood and listened while the
debris sat and knew. It was
in the middle of chaos, the
which nobody cares about in
the laziness of a daily existence,
that it came arching over.
With wings, long blotted brushes
of grey growing older as they
lengthened and the small shiny
face of metal hurtling over,
blotting out in its wake, stretches
of the standing circumstance.
In the bleary-eyed delirium
of walking across empty paths
still vibrating from human
contact, I remembered the
strewn soda straws, creased
in places which made them
look like alphabets.