Fly the evening sky talking

A voyage in search of a spoonful of sugar or an appropriate spice to un-sharpen the acrid spicy bitter sharpness of the chili or the vinegar or the little stick of tamarind or be it a few or most of the words in your conversations lasts a lifetime of careful looking and picking up the right leaves that have fallen to the ground dry brown and handbound hardbound books full of words light as feather pleasant as a spring evening’s weather whether or not the breeze blows the way you want it to shaking your legs sitting on inclined planes on which slide profound words of immediate efficacy when uttered – like spells from a wandering wand that flies around the skies over playgrounds and football stadia on sunny days toying with little golden ideas for a playful story playing itself out at shops that sell fruit juice crushing cane and ripe berries in blenders that blend words too smooth, smooth, smoothies shaken not stirred in tall glasses glass not plastic carefully handled, kept on tables with your names written on them ready for you to pick up and casually sip on them, for you to use the words in your casual conversations causal analysis is not required anymore when the words just and only mean what they apparently or obviously mean with no other shade apart from what it seems to possess be it red or green or blue or yellow or gray or black or white and sleepless owls of the night do not really care if you fall asleep soon enough in your bed or not, no, not their business really