any other night
flecked with flashes
notes bouncing: balloons
circus light swoons
balloons off the wall
pop pop squeak and
pop balls (mostly
red) sticking to you
companions in your
floating into the hundred
watt bulb and bursting
pop! pieces fall at
your feet flightless
|Andy Laties and his sister, during his Child's Play days|
My friend Andy Laties, author, bookseller, and musician extraordinaire, when he performed with me in Child's Play had an interesting practice of carrying black balloons in his pocket. He said that they were weather balloons because black is easier to see in the sky.
Andy carried these balloons and would randomly offer one to someone he'd just met. He'd pull it from his pocket, inflate it fast (a wind-instrument musician he has excellent breath control) and hand it to the stranger who would now be his friend. No conditions and no expectations, just a free black balloon.
That has nothing to do with this poem, but mentioning balloons always reminds me of Andy.
Oh, and yes, you really should read Andy's books.
Book and Puppet Company: https://bookandpuppet.com/
Rebel Bookseller: https://bookandpuppet.com/item/JfyTu211AvS6DUwZrcr2Nw
Son of Rebel Bookseller: https://bookandpuppet.com/item/-xqxnISJ0wDCLnFHuj17yw
The Music Thief: https://bookandpuppet.com/item/QZ_xa5QNxDYVQiJrwkATPg
Living Ur Sonata: on Google books here.
A more recent photo of Andy