Liquid glass shatters on the sidewalk from the angry sky
Scattering all the pedestrians like ants
They hurry home to the comfort
Of their TV dinners and their television sets
While I walk the streets—
A garbage bag as my raincoat, my heart light

I find Picasso in a puddle
And stories in the sky
Orpheus is playing his lyre tonight
While gentle Chiron nurses his wound
The sky is my storybook
And as I settle myself under a peeling park bench
I see only beauty