A blue balloon fell from the sky.
Maybe cobalt.
A matching blue ribbon,
I think that blue is cobalt
The ribbon, it's trailing behind the bright plastic clump,
the thing is shriveled, insignificant
unsalvageable garbage now lying on the cement in the middle of the library square.
It set itself down in slow motion as its tail furiously fights to stay free,
floating above the city for who knows how long.
A child let it go in a parking lot somewhere
The child probably cried frantically as the thing escaped.
The mother would wonder where it would land
if it weren't for the screams emanating from what she sees, right now, as her mistake.
It fell here.
In front of me.
And now my thoughts are soaring above the empty parking lots,
high rises and houses,
and the anti-bird spikes on old perches that would mean the blue things death.
These segmented creations of the imagination all lead back to one place:
Where it came from.