sirens

the lolling female limbs of trees
faded slightly in the breeze
the constant pulse of the shoring waves
caused the rise of a milky haze
the aquamarine waterfall hair
with the dirty seaweed wear,
the navy skin of shells
the curious voices of muffled bells
they sang upon the stormy shore
mournfully, for their empty seamen store.

the blaring horns in the middle of the night
awoke my sorry overworked cartilage
lying on the creaky rectangle of wires and fluff
i wonder what the grave emergency is
could it be a nuclear war?
my organs could turn to orangine dust
and my fingers and skin
turn to strangled blue
it could be an attack:
from strange men, with crazed retinas
smelling death like dying mountain lions
hatefully striking out
at each abandoned roadside
i hear the sirens every night
and every night i invent an exciting story
to fill the voids
of my humdrum existence.

-Pamplemousse