With humidity
on the decline,
perfectly occasional
cumulus clouds linger
like doubts
in the purest blue skies
of a PG movie afternoon.
Not so far away,
from fire and rage
and fierce needles of rain
every man-made angle on the street is
kissed and gleaming;
even the oncoming faces
seem as if
they have only just now appeared—
yet still, they look so familiar
I'm afraid
I must be dreaming.