tilted leaf of an allmonde glance that couldnt be scripted
stripes the color red pattern across the collar
eight steps diagonally, the left turns right
the right sharp left starting with the glockenspiels
ending with the brass
drums, march in place
keep time thats all the major shouted
keep your costumes clean
wheres the tuba
(she ran away screaming
couldnt be consoled
and she is adamant
about not being controlled
they said, darling, this is a marching band
not your whole life
but music is everything she cried
while the crowd screams for the touchdown pass
and the grey cloud hangs under the wet wind
"i do not know" she said what happened, sweeping the palm poms in an arc over her head
spoken softly low but w/the microphone the room settled in its dense waves
they were looking, waiting for something of an event*
churning spinning highspeed diving words strapped to bucket seats defy centrifugal force on the coaster
while the crowd screams and waves
and the cloud hangs under the wet wind alas
game called for rain
