Blue

Faith. Drugs. The moment is poignant. A man stands on a hillside as the hundreds funnel in. But the dream escapes him. The cloud doesn’t make the sky, but the cold makes the winter. They were all dressed up nice. Who was going to ruin it? They were dressed to the nines and there was faith and there was drug. Most drink, A few get really drunk. They say, “c’est la vie” but they don’t really mean it. No one knows what life is or isn’t. He floated downriver, adrift on some symbolic wreckage perhaps or just a regular raft. And the sirens could be those entanglements those damsels of Avignon that call him on. Someone comes to cry on his shoulder, but she’s ugly and he pushes her away. God doesn’t have control anymore, they do. No one makes any decisions. There is so much smoke the party dies of cancer. It was a few dozen forms in the dim light wobbling to and fro. Blue in the lips from the lack of air. Bloated from the tears inside. A hundred eyes just under his skin weep and blink in unison as the lights go out a little, here and there. The lights of Le Moulin de la Galette. There’s a sign above the door that warns. but quickly, They forget.