/crack/ (philo viveró)

the roll of thunder
or is it a jet plane?
"i hear it, too"
roll -- boom -- silence ; dead of night
the rain is falling to cleanse this surface
planet's surface -- maybe forty days will be enough
to soak the crustiest of stains
and break the stranglehold of the most evil ones
the snap of a firework
or is that a rifleshot?
do you hear it, too?
hello?

blood pools on the sidewalk next to me
my eyes flit as the spots of colour fill my vision
the roar of silence fills my ears -- a million voices
the night comes up as mind goes down
down, down to the cold ground -- thud

that angel is lovely, in her aura of rainbow colour
and she speaks to me in Babelonian tongue -- i understand
am i dead or dreaming? she leads me up & up & up to the white
white -- light -- voices -- "hello? -- how many fingers?"
the light comes up as the mind comes around
i have nothing left to prove the moment happened
except this nasty bump on my head
and the empty room
where she used to live.