it is a good time

when the sun hangs neither high or low, but rather suspended--a little bit under that marginal area we like to call "the middle", straight ahead, warm like the yolk of an egg, soft and even, like it spilled over the peel of an orange-- and harmless, sublime like a slice of mango as it radiates in one hue, the shielded flame only glowing in orange not burning to blue, remaining tasteful, safe and warm like the yolk of an egg. the blue is bright around the sun in a light cerulean dream and this is the sky, streaked with clouds that run pink, creating stripes that hug each other like the stripes that hug a zebra's skin, fading in and out from pink to carnation, melon to mauve - clouds, pink, streaks, bright like a neon sign against this clear cerulean sky even in the light that is the sun. this is a good time. and i am awake in the orange incandescence that marks this moment in the afternoon-to-night, from the sun suspended in that middle, straight ahead, i know she's in your eyes as you drive. but she's not in mine. and in twists and turns and patterns of pillars and highways and byways and straight ahead the pink is there, the blue is there, the glow is there, my sphere held in an orange embrace like the peel that holds the slices, the slices of that orange globe fully encompassed. i like to see it, in and out, under the bridge, greeting us all again as it returns from its 2 second trip from behind the widest pillars that all hold up the other cars that too have somewhere to go, this sight to see. this time to feel. and then i am again straight ahead, i hope she isn't in your eyes anymore. and the trees and trees rise up in jet black silhouettes and i can see the pink of a cloud and the clear of the blue sky through every tiny space outlined in the black of a thousand branches creating the pattern of laced lines in a design known only to God, in a state of art and beauty known to me, and to those around me, looking out their window as they go, go, and go. a graphic artist's dream i think. an urban modernity i never knew to be drawn in this parallel and inspired by that which is holding me now. i know now and am glad. the slides of silhouettes continue to move with me as i move with the car, black trees like paper cutouts turning into black buildings all shapes and sizes, like a bouquet against the sky. buildings really are beautiful, the way they look right now. decorated by dots of light from within them, an electric lime, a laser lemon, an unmellow yellow. it is a good time and buildings are beautiful. which men designed this scene who placed that building there. who added the tall one by the short one, like a florist that put the daisy by the daffodil. it is so beautiful. i never knew but those buildings sure are beautiful tonight. i know now and am glad. i move forward, the black silhouette, the bouquet of buildings behind me, another bridge another pillar. cars pass beside this one. all orange in the glow. pink are the clouds that still run in streaks, and the sky is now a deeper blue. and it is a good time tonight.