They were perfect for each other
at the Double Drip Water Company,
keeping each other company,
certain fluid shapes matching
other fluid shapes,
shaping something
that look like a Rorschach test,
split into two-plus-two is one blob,
readable in the form of the One
being like the sister, the other One,
like a brother, but what was missing
was their components of lovers;
they being in oppositional
but equal forces,
creatives tapping fear as art,
the promise of pipers apart
when the long shadows
shorten overhead
as the sun rises,
with the purpose of war
in the offing, injured
at the office of longing
The retail recovery went up in smoke,
the sugar cookie cutter
people all left town
as they returned to the work floor
to mop it all up, living in the law
of only one font, flicking at the flint,
patting down fires within, living in sin,
the last waters left on earth
returning to become a cloud,
computing the clowns of commerce
which didn't even know where to stop
or even begin, like echoes of cannon
still shaking mad in the brain:
We, the nations of victims,
all pretty much the same
So they shook it off,
like a dead dog pulled
out of the flood, shaking on,
shaking off, trying to make it pay,
late for the train, early for the rumors
and militant displays, the banners,
jumping red, jumping out of bed,
nuking the moon to make it rain
They only ones they typically spoke to
were over-the-counter people
for more than half the day,
then things might get better,
someone might say hello or something,
the temperature rising, the winds drying
the lands streaking the profits for the week,
all revealed in stains the color of money