Lonely Cloud

by Laurence Trundle Lawrence

December 8, 2003

I wandered lonely as a cloud,
it was Halloween and I had about
sixty pounds of cotton
glued to my leotards.
And nobody wanted to trick or treat
with a kid
who was dressed up like a that.
Needless to say, being seven sucked bad.
The stars shone down
like Christmas lights
all flashing in crazy sequences
that made me nauseous
and I got sick on the tree stand.
That was on Christmas,
but the stars made me sick like that too.
If there'd been a tree stand there
I can't say I wouldn't have sicked on it
but that would have been pretty weird to see
on Halloween
unless it was holding up a pumpkin tree or something.
So to recap, I was a lonely
seven-year-old cloud
and I almost barfed.
But then I saw
a shitload of flowers
like at least seven
possibly more.
And I thought of how
if I ate all those flowers
maybe I could fly.
Hey, I was seven.
But then this guy in a wife-beater
popped out his door and started yelling
about how he was going to punt my little ass
across the street
if I didn't stop eating all his flowers.
So I hauled ass fastly as a cloud
that doesn't want to get its ass kicked
by a bigger cloud
and ran all the way to my cloud house.
But even now,
when huger pangs
sometimes I think of having a flower burrito or something.
When the florist has his back turned
Quick!
Hey screw you, man
I never liked
your flower shop
anyway.

Quote of the Day

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shores... uh, on second thought, scratch that. If I can pick, don't give me any losers.”

-Emily Dickinsome

Fortune 500 Cookie

Give up the ghost this weekâ€”everybody knows you're drawing those eyebrows on with a magic marker. You may only be a gigolo, but that doesn't mean anybody wants to hear you sing about it. Try naming a constellation after yourself: it worked for that "Chantilly Lace" guy. This week's lucky pets: salamander, ostrich, rutabaga, cow fetus, bottle of deadly germs.

Try again later.

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