45*21

there are whytle kastles
the porcelain breaks
the masks
the bristling masks
centipedes
antelopes
the village idiot carries a purse
loaded with gold ducats
suffering succotash
the evening fields filled with watermelons
strings on the purse break free
parking meters burst with coins
the streets explode with steam
a single metal paint can splashing
white
an airplane
with static all around
passengers quiet in their seats
dark gray clouds
and above them
rain