Balloons as a base

The sun lit the dust through the gouge in the roof. Little convections behind her head. Her face in shadow. Little jewels of blue light from her ears, trace the walls into the depth of shadows, quiver with life and blind me where I lie bleeding, considering.

She bandaged my head with her torn pantyhose. It was heaven to lie there in the beam of sunlight. She lifted my arm and helped me stand as the clouds creased the light and left it dim again.

I looked around. Everything had come loose from its piles. I picked up the table and carried it outside. I heaved it on the roof where it covered the gash neatly. I pushed all the metal back into its seams best I could. I stuffed the rest with moss. By the time the rain began, it was finished. So far, just a few drops inside.

I can’t sit still any longer. I put a roof over my own head. I need the rain on me. I need my face wet once more.