A blue fog sticks to this violet man.
It lowers, blurs edges and heavy heavy
velvet coats sidewalks and car hoods and
the violet man feels it strong.
Too far to the left. Far too far he thinks
on the balcony and the skeleton trees
and the wraith birds are pushed under
ground to give birth to the heavy sun.
Blue fog blue fog holds and the violet
man wishes it would go away soon.
There are people on the street now
and their dogs sniffing and asking.
Come down, they yell to the violet man
come down and read the script burned
on the pavement. On the sidewalk and
the building sides. On the lampposts.
Come down he does not. Just watches as
the orange blob of the sun moves its way
inches up--and the blue fog turns opaque
and the shadows on the ground grow.
He knows come down he must. Partake
in the welcoming. Smile with the people
and discuss the newness of this morning
and how it is different and the same.
This blue fog though, won't lift
won't go anywhere so smile he must and
keep on going. Down step and up step
and move on and on and on until he's there.