local motion

just like that,
violet bulbs burst on branches and
this quiet naked street becomes a lime canopy,
and
just like that,
two birds of unknown origins
play wing pump and soar;
darting through the fruit sponge cover like
two eight balls piercing pool hall velvet,
corner pocket sky

we and the tree bombs

the branches are launch pads now and
all the violet bulbs line up,
eager for lift off,
not knowing what the explosion may bring,
but screw it.
come on!
a few more torques on this old jalopy window and
open sesaweeeeeee