After the storm last night, the sky
turned to cadmium hues, yellows – really –
it was like peering into the throat
of a honey-colored lily.
We’d never seen anything like that,
summer sky like a glowing firefly
and to the southeast
a rainbow in reply –
We watched King of Comedy after that;
it made me squirmy, embarrassed.
I wondered about other artist friends –
might they have felt it – that Rupert was like us,
believing in what we make
while the world taps finger to temple
thinks us a touch out of our minds –
of social cues and rules, we are
– loving everybody and everything
a little too much.
I wanted to crawl back to my cave, to tell the truth.
I would never kidnap a star
and go to jail, to get the world
to notice me and what I do.
Maybe I need to be crazier.