poetry & things

Helium headed

He bought and sold things, much like the man

who sold balloons in the park, fashioning them into strange animals

mostly fastened to wooden sticks, except for the helium headed ones

they remind me of you, floating high and lofty

out of reach, wanting escape from ties and pulling strings

drifting from the city moving countrywards

many are mesmerized by the migration

the fantastical triumph of levitation

they wait for days, years under trees

but not I, I am no longer drunk by

hot air and helium dreams

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