Lamp Shades

A new day has come and it and has fixed lamp shades the shape of flowers around the sun and the stars that cast shadows the shapes of flowers and petals in metals and glass and thick sheets of polyurethane foam fluttering with the breeze which is just a fat fancy name for wandering wind wielding its willow that weeps in a game of cricket with six wickets and wicked witches of cloudy winter horses and their nephews that neigh with their nieces who wear little hairbands with flowers of forgotten fragrance in plastic – why doesn’t plastic have any smell is a question for a morning alone of a distant sunrise of purple orange and blue in multiple shades, especially the plastic of the plastic flowers – on tables and glass bottles jars in which sleep and rest – little money-plants grow with bright green leaves the shape of spades of a pack of cards of a Jack who plays on the deck of a ship that can never sink – there is Rose (is a rose is a rose is a rose) and the man of all trades, Jack of hearts drawing naked women with sticks of charcoal like the French women in the cabins of a ship after a game of Ludo and slithering snakes climbing ladders in the back seats of cars fast and furious and sweaty misty back glass panes through which come in light reflect on the rearview mirror appear to be closer than it really is through shadows and shades of lamps that taste bitter better like large nuts of areca in the southeastern corner of the Mediterranean with pineapples Pina Colada and cubes of ice crushed fine in a large spherical glass jar with an umbrella protecting everything below from the sun and the clouds and rain