The old man reclines on the soft grass in a park. The quarantined dog lies on a blanket. The tree eagerly watches as her shadow reaches towards an over exposed sun-baker. The bird chirps on a brick that has fallen from a crumbling wall. The skull of an extinct animal lies unseen in the ground. The pair of jeans hang on a rack. The newspaper lies in a bin bag soon to be buried by a machine. The extraterrestrial being sits backstage ready to receive an award for discovering life on another planet. The sleeping child in a sun filled room twitches in a bed of white sheets. The hot runway presents his belly for an aeroplane to smoke up her wheels on. The pineapple rots in a bag. The florist raises his hands in an empty room and weeps for his father behind the curtain, gone. The gyms digital screen clock observes a teenager drawing a picture of a turtle smoking a cigar in detention.
I, with nothing better or worse to do, sit on a step under what should be sun but is only clouds.