On the Plain of SmokesThe sky was neither blue nor white.
It was yellow, and the small
scattered clouds had appeared
quite suddenly like explosions.
Beside the diaphanous pool she lay
on a vinyl-covered chaise lounge.
It was morning. It was
already warm when she broke
into a sweat and then she
wanted not to be a part of it
anymore, so she moved
beneath the white-fringed umbrella
where she told her desperate tale—
to the boy, and the white hibiscus.
rdking