Thursday, May 24, 2007
Dumpling Kaiser #4: Clouds
“I’m going now,” Dumpling Kaiser said.
“No,” I said. “Wait. Please. You must tell me—”
Dumpling Kaiser disappeared quickly.
But she didn’t disappear behind
the convenience store roof. The light parts
of her Britney Spears-like face turned white,
the shadows turned grey and indigo.
The giant head of Dumpling Kaiser
became a cloud, shaped like Britney Spears,
bright, puff-ball white with grey-blue shadows,
drifting against the sky, losing shape,
becoming one particular cloud
among many others, and then lost,
an anonymous white patch among
a near infinity of white, laced
by shadows of grey and indigo.
I thought to myself: Clouds are moisture,
evaporated, risen, then cooled.
Tiny droplets suspended in air.
How many of those clouds are just clouds?
How many are just droplets in air
and how many had been something else?
How many had been somehow talking?
To whom did they talk? What did they say?
(Tomorrow: Dumpling Kaiser #5: Thinking About It Now)